Bloodlines
by the morrighan
Summary: Small beginnings will lead to unforeseen consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Bloodlines

Gray.

John Sheppard stood at the doorway to the conference room, gaze locked on the Stargate. The immense stone circle standing in the lower room. The chevrons dark. The carvings of symbols evocative of lost cultures, of lost civilizations. An incredibly sophisticated mode of travel, crossing unimaginable distances in mere seconds. Linking planets all over this galaxy.

Encompassing laws of physics that he only understood in general terms, no matter how much Rodney tried to explain the incredibly complicated science and math involved. The sheer dynamics of the matter stream itself, of the whole network of Stargates, all connected across the entire galaxy making spaceships almost obsolete. Almost. John still preferred the solidity of a ship under his control, be it a Puddle Jumper or an F-302. Or even the Daedalus.

Still, the Stargate was an astounding feat of engineering and physics. One of the greatest achievements of the Ancients. An interstellar network across the stars. It was truly remarkable. Awe-inspiring, even. But not today. Not when it was threatening to take John's wife out of the city. Away from safety. Away from him.

He frowned, eying it warily. Moved to the comm and adjusted it for citywide. "Doctor Moira Sheppard," he said loudly, voice emphatic on the last name. "Yeah, you heard me right, city of Atlantis. Doctor Moira Sheppard, not O'Meara, not anymore. Moira Sheppard, as in Mrs. Colonel John Sheppard, please report to the conference room."

He smirked. Could only imagine her response to this peremptory announcement of their past nuptials. He stared at the control room. Waiting.

* * *

Moira Sheppard nearly dropped the slide she had been holding. She placed it under the microscope lens, shaking her head and wondering at John's loud pronouncement. She felt all of the scientists in the room staring at her. Glanced at them. Saw surprise. Shock. Envy. She merely shrugged. Resumed her work. Neither confirming or denying.

"Moira! Shouldn't you–" began an older woman.

"No. He's up to something," Moira surmised warily.

"Are you really married to Colonel Sheppard?" asked another. Envy vied with shock in her voice.

"Yes." Moira turned on the stool. Silently held up her left hand to display the gold wedding band. Concrete proof of his announcement.

"Wow! Congratulations! When? How long? Where?" The questions came quickly as the women swarmed around her, all smiles and startled expressions.

"Thanks. Almost seven months now. On Earth. It was a spur of the moment, well, a seize the moment kind of thing. It was wonderful," she assured, answering the questions. She found herself engulfed in hugs and silently cursed John for his abrupt announcement.

* * *

John waited. Paced round the conference room. He kept looking out, down at the control room. "Playing hard to get, are we?" he muttered, amused.

"Maybe she didn't hear you, sir," Evan Lorne offered. He was sitting at the table, wondering at the summons. He folded his hands together on the table, watching his commanding officer pace round the room once more.

"Oh, she heard me. She heard me all right." He smiled, moved to the PA. "Attention! Atlantis personnel! I need Mrs. Colonel Doctor Moira Sheppard, Sheppard," he stressed the last name again loudly, smugly, "to report to the conference room now! I repeat, Mrs. Colonel Doctor Moira Sheppard, Sheppard, Shep-pard," he elongated the last name, almost singing it, "get that pert little ass to the conference room now or I will announce the double J. Sheppard out." He laughed. "She's going to kill me for that, but it will get her here."

"I'm sure it will, sir," Evan agreed with a smile. "Dare I ask what the double J is?"

John grinned. "You'll find out shortly, major. That's why you're here."

* * *

Moira swore under her breath. The excitement had ceased as work had resumed. Until John's voice broke over the comm again, sounding insistent. Playful. Flirtatious. She shook her head as laughter filled the laboratory at his comments. She stood. "I guess I had better go. Colonel Sheppard is in a right state. You see what I have to endure!" she complained. The women laughed. Moira smiled, left the lab.

She walked quickly, trying to ignore the stares, the smiles. The lingering gazes of the men no doubt directed at her rear after John's praise was broadcast all over the city. She frowned, swearing to herself, realizing she needed to wear a long lab coat for the next few days. Yet amusement made her shake her head. Curiosity at his summons compelled her to increase her stride, to head for the control room.

"Here she comes, sir," Evan warned, catching sight of her climbing the stairs.

John looked there, smirked. "Double time. Damn! I wish she was going the other way, but still..." The men laughed. Were still laughing when Moira strode into the room. Waved the door shut behind her, glaring.

"John Sheppard! What the fuck are you playing at to...oh! Evan. Sorry!" She colored. "Will you excuse us, please?"

"No. Moira, I was simply following Carson's advice. Remember? Announcing our marriage before double J."

"John! Shut up! You are not going to announce that! What the hell do you want anyway?"

He smiled. "Sit. Please." He took a seat. Waited.

Moira frowned. Eyed Evan. "Well?"

"I have no idea," Evan admitted. Shrugging.

"Wonderful," she grumbled. Sat across from him. "Well?" she snapped.

John grew serious. "This goes against my better judgment. If I had my way I'd confine you to the city indefinitely, but Carson assures me you will be perfectly safe, that you are healthy. For several months, at least three, maybe..." He frowned. "Although I have questions about the effects of 'Gate travel. I'll have to talk to Carson. It occurs to me that at the moment your condition precludes you from safely being–"

"John! Stop rambling! Get to the point!" she snapped, glancing at Evan who appeared puzzled.

John held up a finger, brows furrowing in thought. "Wait. We need to talk to Carson about this. I hadn't considered that before, but surely he would have considered it, or you."

"John! Table that for later. What were you going to say before you interrupted your own train of thought?"

He rubbed his chin, gaze locked on her. "Oh. Barring any ill effects from 'Gate travel I would rather keep you here, Moira. Indefinitely. But you would resent me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. And I am resenting you now unless you get to the point, colonel. What the hell are you trying to...oh! There's a mission?"

"Yes, Moira. A mission. To a benign, peaceful world. Major Lorne needs to know, as your team leader. In the event that you accompany him. Agreed?"

Moira frowned, realizing what he was saying. She nodded. "Agreed, colonel."

"Can I tell him? Please?" he asked eagerly, smiling. Brilliant green eyes sparkling.

She sighed. "Why not? You love telling people all about us, don't you?" she grumbled. She eyed her hands, suddenly embarrassed. Uncomfortable.

John smiled. Looked at Evan. "Major, double J is code for John junior. As in my son. As in the baby Moira is now carrying. Yes, she is pregnant with my son."

"John! It's not even a baby yet! Just a collection of cells dividing and–" she sternly stated.

"Moira! Do not talk about our son like that! I've told you before," he reprimanded.

"Wow." Evan was looking from one to the other. Startled. Stunned. "Congratulations, sir! Moira! That's wonderful news!" Evan grinned.

"Yes, it is," John agreed. "But your job just got twice as difficult, major. You have two Sheppards on your team now, and both are more precious to me than anyone or anything."

"Yes, sir."

"If you thought I was overzealously protective before you haven't seen anything yet."

"John!" Moira protested. "Please! I will be careful!"

"I know you will be, sweetheart, but I was talking to Lorne." He resumed his strict tone, his serious gaze. "Major, your top priority is Moira."

"John!" she protested again.

"Hush," he remonstrated. "Top priority, major. If and when she is on a mission with you. If you sense anything hinky, anything strange, if anyone so much as looks at her oddly, or acts interested in her, or God forbid the Wraith appear your direct order, your only order is to get her to safety. Either back here to Atlantis or code green. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, of course," Evan agreed, glancing at Moira. Still startled by the fact that his friend was expecting a baby. Not only a baby but the colonel's baby.

"If you even get a whiff of danger, of anyone taking an interest in her you get her back here immediately," John continued, noting Evan's surprise, bordering on disbelief.

"John! You are being ridiculous!"

"Am I, Moira? Think about it," he challenged. He turned to Evan. "I will hold you personally accountable if anything happens to–"

"John! Enough!" Moira stood, leaning towards him, hands splayed on the table. "I am not made of glass! I'm not stupid! I can take care of myself and I don't need a chaperone! Let Evan do his job as team leader, nothing more! And I'll do mine. I don't need a babysitter! I'll take care of myself like I always do! Dial it down, colonel! That is an order!"

John met her gaze, but his eyes wandered along her. The profile of her body. Rear snugly encased in blue slacks. No sign of a baby bump yet. The gray t-shirt was snug, too snug, almost too small. Outlining her every curve, every dip and swell of her breasts. The bra lines visible as well as her slightly hard nipples. He felt himself reacting. Wanting. Itching to touch. To kiss. To suck as she moved a little.

"Well? John? Hello!"

He tore his gaze from her breasts to her eyes again, smirked a knowing expression. A sensual smile on his handsome face. "All right. Understood, Moira. But my orders stand. Major, make sure she has a jacket. A heavy jacket, a long heavy jacket when you are off-world. Maybe one of Ronon's long coats."

"Yes, sir." The men exchanged a glance, a smile.

Moira scowled. "What? I..." She straightened suddenly. "Oh. John!" She blushed, sat. Folded her arms on the table, blocking his amorous view. Embarrassed again.

John smiled. "Dismissed, major. We're sending a MALP through first. We'll go over the mission specs later. Oh, and major, keep the double J quiet for now."

"Of course, sir." Evan stood. Moved to Moira. Gently squeezed her shoulder. "Congratulations, Moira! And you, sir." He left.

Moira sighed. "What am I going to do with you, colonel?"

"I can think of several things, doctor. All of them naughty, delicious, and some including caramel sauce." He raised a brow.

"Shut up!" But she smirked. Smiled. "I've got work to do." She started to rise.

"I'm not kidding, baby." He licked his lips.

She stared, drawn by the motion of his tongue along his full lips. The salacious glint in his brilliant green eyes. "About the caramel?"

He nodded. "And the coat. Shit. Just looking at you is giving me a hard-on, baby. Come see for yourself." He scooted back from the table. Reclined lazily in the chair, sprawling. Legs stretched out, arms dangling from the chair's sides. His gaze challenging.

She frowned, but rose. Walked to him. Sat on the table near him. Smirked at the obvious bulge in his pants as the material was tenting. Clearly outlined in the gray fabric. She leaned down, touched his thigh. Touched his erection. He groaned softly. "Wow. John...you, um...my oh my. Can't you keep it in your pants, sweetie?"

"It's in my pants, baby, but it really, really, really wants to be in you."

She caressed him. Only making him harder. Making him groan with anticipation. Need. She freed him. Leaned close to kiss him. To catch his mouth with hers. To tease with her tongue before she sat back, out of his reach. "Not the conference room table," she teased.

He smiled. "Are you sure, baby? I can't leave the room like this, Moira. I need to deploy. Now." He touched her thigh. Caressed.


	2. Chapter 2

Bloodlines2

Moira snorted a laugh. "Hmm...what a predicament, colonel. You need to stand down, soldier. We can't deploy your big, hard ordnance here, sweetie. Someone could get hurt. Or even worse we could break some of this expensive equipment. With such unwieldy ordnance."

"That's not helping, baby," he scolded. Fingers sliding up her thigh slowly.

"Oh? Sorry, John. Relax. Think about something else. Tell me what you meant. About the danger. Apart from the obvious you seemed to indicate some specific threat."

"Huh?" He raised his eyes to her face. She frowned. He smirked. "Sorry, baby, I can't keep my eyes off you."

"Parts of me, you mean! John, focus. Tell me."

"Tell you which parts? That should be obvious, baby, your fucking beautiful--"

"No!" She caught his hand before it wandered between her legs. "The danger?"

"Oh." He sighed. Stood suddenly. Parted her thighs and stepped between them. He was very close now, hands on her hips. His gaze smouldered with passion, gravity. "Our baby, Moira. The ATA genes. Our ATA genes combined. Who wouldn't want that for themselves in this galaxy?" he queried.

"Oh. You mean...oh..." she whispered, brown eyes widening.

"Yeah. Between that Wraith queen and her breeding program, the harvest, and the colonel...yeah. You are the most desired prize. By me, as always, but also now by our enemies. If they somehow learned you are pregnant with John junior I can't even think of the consequences. No. I can. I have. So yes, my overzealous protection is going to get worse. I can't help that, Moy. And you need to be careful. Extra careful. Extra alert. I don't mean to scare you, sweetheart, and I know both threats are remote, but they are real. Very real."

"Okay, John," she whispered, awed by his thoughtfulness. His thoroughness. Intensity. He kissed her. Another kiss, tongue gliding as one hand slid between her legs. "John?"

He slowly smiled. "Which brings me back to my problem, soon to be yours, baby. How to leave the conference room with a now raging hard-on. My unwieldy ordnance."

She smiled. Ran her hands up his chest. To his shoulders. His neck to draw him closer. To kiss him. To savor his lips, his mouth. "I don't know, sweetie. I guess we'll have to have conference table sex after all." A few more kisses and she found herself pulled to the very edge of the table, only kept from falling by the proximity of his body. Of his hardness poking her intimately.

"Ah baby...please," he said low into her ear. "Just a quickie until I can get you into our bed."

She moaned into his ear to tease him. Torment as she circled it with kisses. Gently bit. "We need privacy, sweetie. Unless you're getting off on someone seeing us, or barging in here." She pulled back from him, suspicious. Frowning. "Is that it? I don't want to be interrupted mid-coitus, John."

"Neither do I, baby," he agreed. "Fuck....I need to relieve this one way or another," he complained, shifting his stance as his erection was pressing. Uncomfortable. He looked past her towards the hall, towards the control room beneath them.

Moira smirked, taking his hand. His forefinger into her mouth. Sucking hard.

John groaned, shifting, all but losing it as his gaze flew to her mouth. "Moira! Please!" He pulled his finger out of her mouth but even that made him groan, made his cock jerk in simulated reaction. Need. He kissed her suddenly, passionate. Hungry. "Fuck!" he quietly swore. Looked past her again.

Moira shifted on the table, body reacting to his need. "Sorry, John."

"No, you're not. Not at all, baby," he accused, meeting her gaze. Pained. Impatient. He licked his lips. "Do you trust me, Moira?"

"Yes, John, but I am not taking off my–"

"I know." He reached behind him. Produced his knife. Moira stared at the long, sharp blade as he smiled. Amused at her reaction. "Unzip."

"What? You...you..."

He reached around her. Opened a data screen. Moved it to block the view of them. "Unzip," he repeated. Voice low.

She stared. At him. At the knife. Realized what he was going to do. Alarmed. Aroused. She bit her lower lip. Unzipped her pants. "John? You–"

He kissed her, tongue thrusting. Taking possession. At the same time he slid his hand into her pants. Felt her wetness along her panties. He slid his hand over her crotch, making her squirm, lift, whimper. Lean back a little as if inviting him. "Hold still, baby." He looked down, held the knife and cut through the pants.

Moira gasped, trying to keep still but finding herself aroused, titillated. She swallowed, whimpered softly as his knuckles rubbed her crotch, protecting her from the knife. He drew it out, replaced it in the sheath at his hip. Met her gaze with a smile, a leer. Raised his brows. Took hold and ripped open the crotch of the pants, creating a hole. She squirmed, catching his hands but freed them to unzip his pants. Reached in to open his shorts as he jerked to meet her.

He smiled, groaned. Took hold of her panties and ripped them abruptly. Fabric tearing under his hands, arousing them both. He glanced over her shoulder, then groaned as she freed him from his shorts. Her nails running along his very erect cock. "Fuck oh fuck, baby," he growled, about to come in her hands. He yanked her to the edge of the table. Shoved her hands off him. Thrust into her.

Moira gasped, whimpered as he filled her. Her thighs widened and she leaned back a little, arching as he began to thrust slowly. Measured motions rocking her and the table. Quietly grunting with each spike in pleasure, tension, relief. He kissed her passionately, hands sliding round to grab her rear. To squeeze. To lift her but keep her in place as he began to thrust in earnest now. Faster. Harder.

Moira squirmed, whimpered. Tightening on him as she was inundated with quick pleasure. Building, building. Rocked up and down, up and down, bouncing on the table. Her feet were swinging off the floor. She grabbed onto him to keep hold, wanting to fall back but daring not to, trying to keep a modicum of control. She moaned, moaned, trying to keep quiet. "John! Oh John, John, John," she softly enthused.

He quickly glanced past her. No one was near. He met her gaze, thrusting harder now. Faster. Driving them both quickly to climax. Spurred by the risk, the excitement of being discovered. By the sheer thrill of someone walking in on them now. By the soft sounds escalating form her lips. From his.

"John!" Moira lowered her voice, kissing him. Circling his ear. Whimpering, biting gently along his throat. "Oh John, John, harder, harder now!" she softly encouraged. Came in a tremble as the climax blossomed. The rush. The risk. The eroticism of the act, the location. For a moment not caring if anyone walked in on them as the intimate pleasure took control of her.

"Moira, oh baby, oh fuck fuck there it is!" he moaned, straining. Coming in a spasm. Thrusting so hard the table shook. The data pad skidded across the smooth surface and crashed to the floor. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he exulted in her hair, on her throat as he kissed, nibbled. Slowed, slowed as the need was sated, resolved. He looked past her suddenly. A group of people were heading up the stairs, locked in animated discussion. Elizabeth Weir at the head of the group. "Shit! Shit!" He pulled out of her. "Data pad!" He slid back into his chair, shoving himself into his shorts, his pants. Fixing his clothes.

"Shit!" Moira echoed. She sprang off the table, moved to her knees on the floor. Zipping her pants and slamming her thighs together. Very aware of the gaping hole in her clothes. She blushed, sat, grabbed the data pad as if just retrieving it. Fingers awkwardly sliding on the keyboard as the data was a jumble of frozen applications.

"Well, that's a very good suggestion, but I was thinking more along the lines of opening more of the city to research and expansion. There's certainly enough room to...oh, John. Moira?" Elizabeth stared from one of the other, curious. John sitting in a chair at the table looking as if he owned the place. Moira on the floor fumbling with a data pad in her hands.

John was calm. Collected. Appeared bored as he sprawled in the chair. Clothes slightly rumpled. "Elizabeth. Moira was just consulting with me on her latest needs. Weren't you, Moira?" His gaze darted to her.

She eyed him. Closed the data pad. Carefully stood, tugging down her shirt. "Yes...but as I recall your needs were more paramount, colonel. I was assisting John, actually with his supply and demand issues. Isn't that right, John?"

He smiled. Stood. "Yes. You can have the room now. I'm good to go. Thank you, Moira."

"Happy to help, John. Very." She smiled. Walked briskly to the door, past an array of staring men and women. She stepped out of the room, paused. "Shit." She eyed the stairs, legs close together. Nearly jumped at the hand sliding up her back.

"Problem, doctor?" John teased.

"Maybe. I...um...it's not funny, colonel!"

He laughed. "It is, actually. I'll guard your six. Go."

"Hilarious, John." She carefully descended. He followed on her heels. Gaze glued to her rear. With each step, each motion he got a glimpse of the torn material. Of bare skin. Of dark hair and pink folds that made him tense with amusement, desire.

"Feel a draft, baby?"

"Shut up."

"Fuck that was hot...is hot. Walk faster, baby. It was too quick, though..."

"Shut up. You said a quickie, John," she remonstrated, walking faster. Feeling more secure that now she was on level ground.

"Yeah, but the view back here is making me ready for another deployment. A longer, fuller deployment, baby."

"Shut up," she repeated. Entered their room and whirled as he followed, shutting the door. "Damn it, John! We were almost caught! And by Weir, no less!" she flared.

"Yeah, I know," he grinned. "Fuck that was hot." He caught her. Kissed her. "I love those pants now, baby."

She laughed. "Sweetie, you owe me a new pair of pants. And yet another pair of panties. But you're right. That was hot," she agreed. "So hot! And dare I say it...kinky?"

He laughed. Moved her to the bed. "Let's finish properly, baby. All the way this time. Poor little John junior better have a belt on in there."

"Will you cut that out! You–" she snapped, but he kissed her. Cutting off her anger. Moving her onto the bed, onto her back. He unzipped, undid his pants. Yanked himself out of the clothing. "Wait." He slid up her shirt. Shoved the bra aside to reveal her breasts. "Ah. Better. Much better...oh fuck they are beautiful," he wooed. Kissing her. Proceeding to kiss them. To greedily suck each one until she moaned, squirming. Fingers in his hair. Pulling.

"John! Oh John, John...John..."

"Moira," he said hotly. Thrust into her slowly, taking his time. A gentle rhythm as he kissed and kissed her breasts. Caressed as he slid up to kiss her mouth. All the while penetrating repeatedly. "How's that, baby? Sweet and slow to finish the ride. Fuck...that feels good."

She kissed him, pulling him closer. Hands running up his bare arms. "Oh John! John, yes, yes, yes, John oh yes more, more!" she enthused. Arching as she came in a pleasant orgasm. "John!"

He groaned. "Fuck, fuck, fuck here we go, baby, all the way this time," he wooed. Moving faster, harder, coming in a pleasant rush. A shudder. He sighed happily, settled half on her. Sliding out of her. "Baby, that was lovely."

"Oh John...you...oh John..." she whispered, kissing him. "Don't move. Don't move yet."

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. And neither are you." He slid down, pulled a blanket over them. Rolled onto his side. She rolled, snuggled into him, smiling.

"John...John, I love you," she muttered happily.

He kissed her. "I love you, Moira. And John junior."

"Stop it!" She relaxed. "I'm so tired now, sweetie."

"Then take a nap, baby. A nap sounds good. Then lunch. Then sex. Sex. Maybe a little work."

"What about the mission?" she asked, already drifting into a sated doze. Warm, secure in his arms. Pleasured. Her fingers clutched at his t-shirt.

He kissed her brow. "Later. We'll see. Go to sleep, Moy. Everything will be fine."

"That was so wild, John...so hot..." She giggled. "Taking me on the table like that. Ripping my clothes." She sobered. "Very Alpha, colonel. Very male. Very, very...territorial..." Her voice was falling softly as drowsiness claimed her.

"I know, sweetheart," he agreed smugly. "I am the sex guy."

"Damn right, sweetie." She kissed him, snuggling. "My sex guy."


	3. Chapter 3

Bloodlines3

John dozed. Woke half an hour later. He carefully disentangled himself from Moira. Smiled. She was sound asleep. He kissed her cheek. Adjusted the blanket over her. Stood staring at her a moment. His wife. Carrying his child. But still stubborn about going on missions. About acting like nothing had changed when everything had.

He shook his head, left the room. Strode to the infirmary.

Carson Beckett was shaking his head, bent over a microscope. "This isn't right. There's a marked increase in the surface tissue. Whatever this is it's not a fungus." He looked up to see John heading for him. He sighed. Recognized the stern, serious expression on the colonel's face. "Yes, John, what do you need now?"

John smiled at the doctor's tired, exasperated tone. "I have a question. No, a concern."

"Look, John, personally I think that Darwin Lyell Carson is a fine name indeed, and if that is what Moira wants you should by all means agree."

John laughed. "No, not about that. And no. The name is John junior. I was thinking about 'Gate travel. Now, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. The wormhole disintegrates matter, transfers us into energy particles and then reintegrates our molecules to their original forms."

"Yes, as far as I understand it, colonel. This is really Rodney's field but–"

"Bear with me, doc. The matter stream becomes, in effect, us. Or we become part of the matter stream which then reintegrates us into our original forms, comprised of our unique DNA, right? The double-stranded helix."

"Yes. With a backbone of repetitive chains of sugar and phosphate. The two strands are held together by the complimentary pairing between the four chemical bases–adenine, cytosine, guanine and thymine, hence the A, C, G, T abbreviations. The foundations of a genetic language. Now the RNA is identical except for the T being replaced by the U, that is to say the thymine being replaced by the–"

"Yes, I got that, whoa! No need to get so technical, okay? Genes passed from parent to offspring. My question, well, concern is this. Can the matter stream interpret two different DNA codes in one body?"

Carson stared at him, then realized. "You mean Moira and–"

"John junior, yes. Moira keeps telling me that John junior is a collection of cells dividing and subdividing, in essence not a baby yet."

"Not even a fetus yet, or even an embryo for another month or so," Carson agreed.

"And it got me thinking about the matter stream's disintegration. However short it may be would it be able to distinguish John junior as another life form this early on? He's got her DNA and my DNA combined but is that enough for him to fully integrate? Or would he be absorbed into her since technically he is not a separate life form yet?"

Carson stared. Silent for a few moments, thinking. "I...that's a very good question, John."

John folded his arms across his chest. "I know. Right now is when he is most vulnerable, right? The first three months, you told us."

"Yes." Carson frowned. "To be honest, John, I hadn't given it much thought. It's not like I see a lot of pregnancies here in Atlantis. Well, any, actually, until now. Even so I should have considered it. I didn't think Moira would be going on missions for awhile because of her morning sickness and fatigue. I would think the last thing she would want is to go on a mission."

"True. But she's stubborn. Very stubborn. Still wants to behave like nothing has changed, but it has, Carson, it has! And if I flat out refuse her she will be pissed. But if there's a real danger she will have no choice but to do what I say. To stand down and agree."

"Let me confer with Rodney on this. On the exact nature of the matter stream. Does he know about Moira?"

"No. I haven't seen him to tell him. Moira wants it kept quiet for now," he grumbled.

"Because it is very early, John. I don't want to alarm you but the early days can be critical. All right, I'll ask him in general terms. Don't worry. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Carson. But in any event the decision's made. We can't risk it, not at the moment."

He smiled. "Okay. I've got a few things to do before I check on her. She's resting right now."

"Good. Take care of her, John. She'll listen to you."

He snorted. "Yeah? Since when? I'll have to sweet talk her round, I guess."

* * *

Moira rolled onto her back. Turned onto her side. Muttered under her breath, caught between wakefulness and sleep. She shifted her legs. Rolled onto her other side and bumped into John's hip and leg. She reached along him, found his thigh. "Oh." She heard his gentle laugh. Opened her eyes, moving her hand down, into his lap. "Oh." She quickly retreated as he laughed again. Her fingers brushing his cock. "John?"

He smiled. Glanced at her from his laptop he was holding on the bed. "About time, Moy. How do you feel?"

"Fine." She yawned. Sat. Reached under her shirt to fix her wayward bra. "Hungry. What are you doing?" She tossed her messy hair back from her face.

He kissed her. "Working on a supply list."

"Oh. Like a new headboard?"

"No. A new bed. We need a bigger bed. Maybe even new quarters. What do you think?"

She blinked. "New quarters? Why? I like our quarters, John. Don't you?"

"Yes. But I think we need more room, Moy. Especially now."

She scooted close. His arm slid round her as she eyed his list. "What the...baby supplies? Crib. Cradle. Stroller. Blankets. Bibs. Diapers. John, you're getting way ahead of yourself here. There's not even a baby yet."

"I know, but there will be, sweetheart. I'm planning ahead. Contingency plans. Strategies. It's what I do, you know." He closed the laptop. Kissed her, stroking her side. "Moira."

She sighed. Cuddled against him. Touched his chest. "John, what about the mission?"

"I'm awaiting new intel, Moira." He lifted her face to his, kissed her. "Tell me, honestly, you really want to go? Instead of staying here with me? I'm restricted to the city for awhile. To be sure I'm recovered completely. So...I would like some time with you. Time together. You. Me. I only just learned about John junior, you know."

"I know. I...stop that!" She pulled away from him. Stared. Suddenly noticing the table. It was full of fresh, vibrant roses. Scarlet. Magenta. Pink. Yellow. Scattered among them were bags. Bags of Doritos. Different flavors. "John? You..." She smiled. A laugh escaped her.

"You needed fresh flowers. And well, you never specified which flavor of Doritos you craved, so I scrounged around. Confiscated them all. Take your pick. So...will you stay here with me, Moy?" He caught her hand, caressed. "Moira?"

She felt tears, looked down at the blankets. "I...I don't know. I...I feel so stupid, John. Insisting I go on this mission but now, now...I just want to be with you. Well, with the Doritos, actually, but you too," she teased with a smile. He playfully scowled. "I don't want to impede my team. More than likely I'll just throw up through the 'Gate, and I'm so tired. I'm so tired in the mornings. You and your damn sperm," she complained.

He smiled, relieved. "Then stay with me, Moira. Take care of yourself and John junior. I'm sure you have plenty of work here, don't you? Those five projects of yours, although that is too many all at once. Why don't you concentrate on the new classifications?"

"So that's it? You want to confine me to a desk job?" she snapped, glaring at him. She sighed. "Sorry." She turned away from him. "I don't know what's wrong with me. And it's Darwin Lyell Carson." She quoted, "'From so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.' That's from Darwin, John. The last lines of _On the Origin of Species._ I need to be out there, working. I need to be stationed on Pleistocene Park. I need to be studying the diversity of life, of flora and fauna, relating it to both ancient and modern forms, even figuring out where the Wraith fit into this galaxy's bio-diversity, because they do, John, I've been working on a theory about that but I haven't said anything because I don't think Doctor Weir will appreciate it. I should be working, John, but you and your damn sperm ruined all that! Ruined everything!"

He was staring at her back, the fall of her messy hair. Her rumpled shirt. Not knowing whether to be amused or angered at the torrent of words spilling out of her. "You have plenty of work to do here, Moira. Work you can do here. Safely. And you will be out there again. Just not right now. And even if you weren't pregnant there's no way in hell I would station you on any planet except this one. No way." He touched her shoulder. "Moy, sometimes it sounds like you don't even want this child, don't even want any child. Is that it?"

"No! I want it. Just..." She turned to him, desperate to make him understand. "Are you ready for this, John? Truly? Are you ready to be a father? For all of the changes that are coming? All the changes to me? To us? We're not prepared, John! We're not ready! We didn't even plan for this! We didn't decide to do it. It just happened!"

"I know, sweetheart, and no, I don't know if I am ready. Probably not. But I want this. I want you. I want John junior. I never thought I'd have this in my life, Moy. Now that I do I want all of it. Don't you?"

"I....yes..." she stared, startled by his words, his seriousness. The gravity in his brilliant green eyes.

He kissed her, gently pulling her into his arms. "Moira. Don't fight this. Don't fight us. Don't fight me, or John junior. I know things are going to change, probably in ways we can't even imagine yet, but it will be for the better. All of it. You'll see."

"I...I don't...I..." she stammered, uncertain.

He kissed her again. "We'll leave our rooms the way they are, for now. All right? But I really wouldn't mind a bigger, more comfortable bed. With a stronger headboard."

She smiled. "Yes, colonel. That would be nice." She kissed him, slid off the bed. "I'm starving! And I need a new pair of pants. And panties."

"Why? I really like the crotch-less style, Moira. Makes life so much easier, don't you agree?"

"Shut up, John!" She grabbed clothes, moved into the bathroom.

John laughed. Moved to his room, set the laptop aside. Tapped his earpiece. "Sargent, have Major Lorne and his team assemble in the conference room in ten."

"Does that mean the mission's still on?"

He turned, smirked. Moira had combed her hair back into a ponytail. She wore a baggy blue sweatshirt that was long, reaching over her rear. A pair of jeans. "That doesn't camouflage anything, baby. I know exactly what you're trying to hide." His gaze lingered on her breasts.

She frowned. "As long as you're the only one, John, that's fine. Thanks to your lovely PA announcement about my ass again I need to keep it concealed."

"No one would dare say a thing, baby. The mission's a go, yes. You can sit in on the brief if you wish. Moy...are you going?"

She shrugged. "I...I don't know."

"Let's go. We can stop by the cafeteria so you can grab a sandwich. Me too." He tapped his earpiece, guiding her out of the room. "Carson, got that intel yet?"

"Almost, John. Where–"

"Conference room. Make it quick."

Moira turned. "Intel? What intel, John?"

"On 'Gate travel." At her continued stare he added, "On the matter stream's disintegration and reintegration effects on pregnant women."

"You...what? You..."

"Yes, I think of everything, Moira. Go." He guided her towards the cafeteria.

"I...I'm sure it's fine, John."

"I'm not. Not yet. Not until John junior is a fully formed baby. No, until we hear from Carson this discussion is tabled, for now. As is your participation in that mission. Grab a sandwich."

She did so, grabbed a bag of chips, a water. "John! You really think there could be a problem?"

"Possibly. You have two genetic codes now, Moira. And double J," he amended as people were near them, "is not a fully formed life form yet."

"Don't call...wow." She stared at him, stepping out of the line as he joined her. "You've really thought this through, haven't you, Mr. Science?"

"That's Colonel Science, and yes. Table." He gestured. Followed her to an empty table where they sat. "Apparently somebody had to," he grumbled. "You need to be more aware of double J, Moira," he chastised.

She frowned. "I am John! How can I not be? My body's a train wreck right now! Changing every day. Hormones going berserk. Throwing up every morning, getting horny every afternoon, being so tired I need to take a nap, then I can't sleep at night, all the–"

"Whoa, whoa, back up there, baby. Horny every afternoon?"

She scowled at his interest, but smiled. Bit into her sandwich. Chewed and slowly swallowed. Sipped her water. "Yes, sweetie. You missed quite a few weeks there, colonel. Once I got over the shock of finding out. And then the worry over you...you really think I'd do it on the conference table if I wasn't a mess of cravings and hormones right now?"

He smiled, but frowned. "Damn! I missed that? Shit! Every afternoon?"

She nodded. "Yes, and thinking of you...memories of you and your big, hard ordnance driving into me...hell, just memories of your kisses and your tongue...would get me so..." She sighed. "Talk about needing a spare...sometimes two."

John nearly did a spit take. Caught himself. "Two? Shit!"

"Lower your voice!" she scolded, but enjoyed teasing him.

"Really? Two? While I was stuck on that fucking planet I could have been–"

"Fucking me full throttle every afternoon?" she finished pleasantly for him. "Anywhere? Any how? Yes, colonel. Yes. Oh well, it's not so bad now...not like it was. I tried various ways to assuage it, all sorts of things," she teased hotly, moving her fingers in front of him suggestively, "but nothing really was as effective as you. Nothing could compare to your big, hard, long ordnance driving into me, over and over. To your luscious lips and your dexterous tongue taking me so hard, so fast. To your long fingers and calloused hands running all over me. Every inch, John...every inch...but especially my sweet, sweet center aching to be filled by your hard, hard ordnance...driving through that tightness and slickness to make me scream." She licked her lips, stood. "Well, it's not so bad now," she repeated, voice calm, normal. "Thanks to your damn sperm the hurling puts me off of that, for awhile."

John was staring at her, completely captivated. Riveted by every salacious word, gesture. His mind filling with assorted erotic images she was implanting. Images to get him off, to make him hunger for her. "Fuck," he muttered. "Sorry, baby...if I had known, believe me, I would have gotten back here somehow. So...um...every afternoon? Now?"

She was silent. Eying him. Fingers running along the table back and forth. Back and forth. "Maybe. Maybe not. Let's go. The meeting," she clarified.


	4. Chapter 4

Bloodlines4

John caught Moira's arm as they reached the stairs. "So, baby...seriously? Every afternoon?" he asked into her ear. Not knowing whether she was flirting or teasing him. Not caring as long as she was coming on to him.

"Like clockwork, sweetie," she replied softly, leading him up the stairs. "You could have set your watch by it. Hell, you could have set your cock by it, John. You could have planned on a full-on hard-on at two o'clock every day. Every day, John, why we could have trained your ordnance to become aroused at exactly that...oh here we are." She entered the conference room. Looked back. "John?"

John was staring at her, standing on the stairs. Resumed walking and followed her into the room. To the head of the table. Sat as Evan and his team filed in, casting glances at the pair. John tore his gaze from Moira as she sat near him. He gestured to the data screen. Punched a button. "MALP footage from PJ3M29. Note the rocky terrain. Little vegetation. Those ruins in the distance could be an Ancient structure."

"Looks like it sustained heavy damage, sir," Evan commented. Ruined spires were pointing at the sky like fingers on the film. "It looks to be of Ancient design."

"Yes, but disused. Maybe for centuries. Who knows? This planet is a little out of the way but still in the database so it's worth a visit," John agreed.

"John? It's not one of the planets on the grid, or rather out of it, is it?" Moira asked. The other men exchanged confused expressions, but John nodded, understanding her.

"Yes. It is. I'm pursuing a theory of my own. This one is the closest to the planets that have two or more of your designated criteria."

"Sir? Is there something I should know?" Evan asked, looking from Moira to John. Back again.

"No, major. Not yet," John decided. "It's just a theory. A work in progress."

"What theory?" Moira asked, intrigued. Curious.

"Later. It's a routine mission, nothing spectacular, but take note of everything."

"Are there any energy signatures?" Thomas Kavanaugh asked. He adjusted his glasses.

"No. None. It's still worth investigating. DHD is intact. Your priority is to check out those ruins. That structure. The usual meet and greet, of course."

"Is there a village nearby, sir?" Aaron Josephes asked.

"Not within two klicks, at least not detected by the MALP. All protocols are to be observed. I need you to take special notice of anything unusual. Particularly in that structure. Weapons damage and so forth. We've run into some alien tech and there might be more. By alien I mean tech and structures not Ancient or Wraith. Something else. Something new, or rather something old. Older than both, possibly. Any questions?" John looked over as Ronon Dex entered.

"Sorry. What did I miss?" the Satedan asked. He took a seat. Gaze lingering on Moira for a moment.

"Not much. As I was saying, SOP apply. Anything interesting turns up in that structure radio Atlantis so we can send a full science team, if necessary, and–"

"Excuse me, colonel," Moira interrupted, "why is Ronon here? Is this a joint mission with your own team?"

John replied evenly, "No. He might be going with you. But I guess not now. As I was saying any kind of Ancient or even alien tech should be reported ASAP to us and we–"

"Why? Why would you assign Ronon to a SOP meet and greet?" she persisted. "To us? Or did you mean to me?" She glanced at Ronon. The Satedan smiled. Warmly. Too warmly. Moira looked at John. "You didn't! You didn't!" She stood. "John!"

He shrugged. "Contingency, Moira. I had to so he would know the reason he was going and the gravity of the responsibility. But it's a moot point now since you are not going. Now, as I was trying to say, if you–"

"Excuse me, sir, Moira's not going with us?" Evan asked, glancing at her. "Sounds like we need her on this," he commented.

"Damn it, John! Must you tell everyone? I don't need a chaperone! No offense, Ronon."

"None taken," he assured with a smile.

"You do," John argued. "It's done. If not on this mission on any mission you are on. And if Ronon is not available it will be Reynolds. Now, as I was saying, if you do encounter any–"

"No! I do not need a bodyguard! It would be a waste of Ronon's time, or Reynolds' time, and impinges on my team! I don't need to be looked after like a child, colonel! Let me do my job. Let Evan do his."

"With all due respect, sir, Moira has a point," Evan noted.

"I don't recall asking you, major," John informed, glancing at him. He met Moira's angry gaze. "I am letting you do your job. Or rather I will when I am absolutely certain it is safe. Once that is proven to me and you feel up to it you can go on missions. But you will have Ronon or Reynolds with you at all–"

"No! I don't need bodyguards!" she repeated. "What's next, John? A squad of marines? I'm surprised that you're not going to tag along!"

"Don't push me, Moira, or I will tag along on every mission, or just suspend you from the team," he threatened.

"Sir, I am perfectly capable of looking after Moira, whatever the circumstances," Evan offered.

"Are you, major? If you might recall things are very different now."

"Because you married her, sir?" Aaron asked, bewildered. He faltered under John's glare.

"They're married?" Thomas asked in astonishment. He stared at John, then Moira. Eyes huge behind his glasses as he could hardly believe his ears.

"No, lieutenant. There's another reason," John stated. "As the major fully knows."

"And rest assured, sir, I will take note of that and act accordingly, as will Moira," Evan stated. Irritated at John's apparent lack of trust. His apparent doubts over Evan's ability.

"John, no! This ends now. No more!" Moira stated firmly. "You will treat me like any member of Lorne's team. No bodyguards. As much as you may want to keep me here I will do my job until I can't do it or feel I am a liability to my team."

"That's not what you said earlier, Moira! Or does throwing up every morning not count as a liability? Or being tired, " he asked, "because in my book it does! And until I determine that 'Gate travel is safe for you, completely safe for both of you the pair of you are restricted to Atlantis effective immediately! You don't want bodyguards? Fine. Then you are restricted to base as of now!"

"You can't do that, John!"

"I just did, Moira."

"Sir! I believe the choice should be Moira's," Evan tried to intervene. "Whether to go or not to go. Whether to have a guard or not. The choice is hers."

"The choice is mine, major, as military commander of Atlantis," John reminded.

"As commander, John, or as my husband?" she challenged. "It is my choice! Not–"

"As both, Moira, and no, it's my choice! When and how to assign team members. Now I believe your participation here is no longer necessary. Go to our rooms and you can choose your Doritos," he said snidely, dismissing her.

"No! Don't you dare order me around like the good little wife, or one of your marines, colonel! I don't care if you want me to go sit in that room for nine months like your fucking incubator! I am a member of Major Lorne's team and will go on any mission I–"

"You will do as you are told, Doctor Sheppard, by the military commander of Atlantis! That is an order that even civilians have to obey! Do I make myself clear?" John was having a hard time reigning in his anger. Her fury fueling his. Her seeming disregard for the baby she was carrying. His baby. His son.

"You can't–" she protested hotly.

"I can! I just did!" He slammed his open palm on the table. Data pads rattled. Thomas almost jumped out of his chair in fright. Evan's eyes narrowed in irritation. Aaron stared in alarm. Ronon merely shook his head, not at all surprised. "Now go!"

She glared at him. Stomach twisting with anger, chagrin. "You son of a bitch! I wish I wasn't pregnant with your child!" She stormed out of the room. Furious.

A tense silence stretched. Stretched. John was staring after her, pissed. Rattled. Hurt by her last words. He watched her progress down the stairs. She nearly tripped in her haste. Then her quick stride across the control room, almost shoving a technician out of her way. Ponytail flying wildly behind her like a flag, beckoning.

"Um...sir, I'm sure she didn't mean that," Evan ameliorated. "She's very upset and didn't know what she was saying. Frankly, sir, I don't blame her. You are treating her like an invalid. No,

worse than that. Like she can't take care of herself. Like she can't take care of the pregnancy. Like she can't do her job and be pregnant at the same time."

"Don't, major. Not another word," John warned.

But Evan persisted. "I'll go talk to her, sir. I can calm her down, reason with her."

"No. I can handle my own wife, major," John said tersely.

"Can you, sir? Because it seems to me making her this upset can't be good for her," Evan challenged, "or for the baby. Frankly, sir, you don't seem to know how to handle Moira at all." A gasp escaped Aaron's lips. Thomas stared, wide-eyed. Ronon looked from one man to the other. "Nor can the fact that you are impinging on her own choices, her own decision, not to mention mine as team leader."

John scowled dangerously. Moved to his feet. "Not another word, major," he warned quietly. "You depart in thirty. As ordered. Ronon, you stand down on this one. Dismissed." John strode out of the room.

The men exchanged glances. Stunned, surprised at the heated confrontation. The startling revelations. "Wow. Moira...Moira is pregnant?" Aaron asked.

"Believe it or not, yes," Evan agreed with a shrug. Almost with disapproval.

"I still can't believe she married him! Married him!" Thomas exclaimed, but cowered as Ronon's gaze fell hard on him. "I'm just saying..." he meekly muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

Bloodlines5

Moira paced in the Wraith lab. Muttering to herself. Angry. Hurt. Worried. Torn between conflicting emotions. Wanting to go. Wanting to stay. Torn between her duties as a team member, as a scientist. Her responsibilities to John and the child she was carrying. Upset at having been forced to choose, but then having the choice all but taken from her. Having John put plans into place without even telling her. She wondered why he doubted Evan's abilities and would rather trust Ronon or Reynolds with her protection. If not himself.

She heard stomping footsteps. Knew they belonged to John. Sometimes he could be as quiet as a cat. Other times he seemed to want to let the whole world know he was approaching. Angrily. She whirled as he entered, met his glare with her own but she faltered. Stared.

John was pissed. A trace of hurt shone in his brilliant green eyes. Smouldering under the anger. A shadow of stubble lined his face. His dark brown hair in perpetual disorder. His clothes were molded to his body, tense with their confrontation. He was sexy. Dangerous. Suddenly she wanted him. Wanted to turn that anger to passion. She swallowed, but stood her ground. Silent. Forcing him to speak first.

John glowered, gaze raking over her body. Her anger, her defiance oddly arousing. Challenging. It made him want her, want to take her roughly, to turn that anger into sexual pleasure, possession. "Did you mean that, Moira?" he asked, voice low, husky. Stern. "Did you mean what you said? Do you wish you weren't pregnant with my child?"

Moira tried not to react to his voice. The low, rasping tones. Harsh. "No. Of course not!"

"I don't believe you," he countered sourly.

"Then don't!" she snapped. "But it's true." She turned away suddenly. His scrutiny unnerving. Sensual. "I do want your child, John, just not now. But it is here now so I have to accept it. I was angry, upset...I feel like I'm letting my team down. I'm letting you down. Hell, I'm even letting the, the child down because I'm not ready and honestly I don't know if I can...handle this...all at once. Okay?"

"No. It's not okay, Moira. Not by a long shot. Why the hell didn't you tell me this before?" he asked, staring at her. The fall of the ponytail down her back. The long sweatshirt concealing her rear. He resented that shirt suddenly, hiding her curves from him. Her rear from his gaze. "That was a terrible thing to say, Moy," he scolded.

"I...I know. I'm sorry. You made me so angry, John. I couldn't tell you...before...because you just wouldn't understand. You took everything in stride like it was no big deal. Like you take everything. You wanted this all along, didn't you? Hell, you probably made sure the condom broke when you fucked me on Pleistocene Park. Aren't you Colonel Contingency Plan?"

"I hardly contrived to have the condom break when I fucked you on Pleistocene Park," he refuted. "I have to take everything in stride because you become a basket case, an emotional wreck until you calm down and think things through. So I have to be the one who deals rationally with all of the unexpected things thrown at us. Which brings us back to my question. Do you want this child, as unplanned as he is? Or not?"

"It! It is. And yes. I just need time to adjust. Shit, my body's adjusting every fucking day but my mind isn't! And then you...you are so wonderful one minute and the next you are smothering me!" She finally faced him. Tears in her brown eyes. "And why Ronon? Why Reynolds? Lorne can protect me."

"True. But I don't trust him to defend you like I would."

"What? It's the same–"

"No. It's not." He stepped to her. Gaze boring into hers. "I would die to defend you, Moy. I would kill to defend you. I need someone with you who would kill to defend you. Both of you now. A killer, Moira. Like me. Ronon. Reynolds. Are killers, like me. Understand the gravity of defending you."

She swallowed, stared. Alarmed. Transfixed by his ferocity. "I...I don't..."

"I don't care. I don't care what you want or don't want in this regard. If it offends your scruples or moral sensibilities I'm sorry. But I don't think Lorne would kill to defend you. I would. Ronon would. Reynolds would. Because I ordered them to and they have killed before. Like that. Have been trained, as I have, for that."

"I...I don't know what to say..." she admitted softly. "That's...horrible. Alarming. But I am overwhelmed you would go to such...such extremes. You, you love me that much...you love your, your child that much...to...to..."

"Kill? Yes. I've killed for you before, Moira. You really think I'd do anything less now? Now that you are pregnant? I can't treat you like just another member of Lorne's team because you're not. You never have been, ever since the day we became involved. When we started dating things changed. When we became lovers things changed. When we got married things changed. And now...with John junior things have greatly changed. I won't pretend otherwise, Moira, and neither should you."

She looked down, biting her lower lip. Caught his hands in hers. "I, I'm sorry, John. I should have realized. I mean, I want things to be the same. Things didn't change too much in regards to missions when we were lovers. When we went on our few, few dates. When we got married. But now I guess they will, because of your damn sperm. At least until 'Gate travel is deemed safe, right? And I feel better?" She shyly met his gaze. "John?"

He sighed. Tapped his earpiece, freeing one hand. "Beckett, do you have that intel yet?"

"Yes, colonel. Where–"

"We're coming to you. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece. "Carson's conferred with Rodney on this, in a general way. Will you accept his findings?"

"Of course, John! I don't want anything bad to happen! But I won't be imprisoned either. Shit. Last time you tied me to a chair. What would you do now?"

He considered. "I'd lock you in a holding cell. Let's go." He led her out of the lab.

"John? Really?"

"Yes. If you gave me no option, yes, Moira. To protect you and John junior. I'm not kidding."

"I know you're not," she grumbled. Moved to walk beside him. Considered. "John.." She took his arm, sidling up against him. "Are you still pissed at me?"

He heard her playful tone, felt the press of her body to his. But scowled. "Yes, Moy."

"I see. Jo-hn, we should go on a date," she suggested.

"A date? Why? We're married."

"I know. But married people can go on dates, can't they? I would like to have a date. A proper date. A nice meal, candles. Some, dare I say it, romance? Okay? Nice clothes, not our old boring BDUs."

He sighed. "Fine. I guess I better humor the pregnant woman with some needless date to–"

"Shut up! Fine, never mind!" She freed his arm, strode ahead of him. "You're right, what the hell was I thinking? I'll just throw it up tomorrow morning thanks to your–"

"Damn sperm, I know. Hilarious, Moira," he grumbled. "God I hate that shirt!"

"Good! I'll wear it every day!" She entered the infirmary, moved to Carson. Tone softening, becoming friendly. "Carson, I heard you may have concerns about 'Gate travel?"

"Damn it, Moira, I'm the one who does!" John came up behind her. "Tell her!"

"Why don't we move over here," Carson gestured. "It's a wee bit more private." Looking from one to the other he guided them to a corner. Seeing their tension, their mutual antagonism he shook his head. "Sit, please." John glowered, remained standing, arms folded across his chest. Moira sat in the chair in front of him. Carson sat next to her, positioned his chair so he could see both of them. "Now, as John did request I talked to Rodney about the matter stream. Only in general terms, Moira, so he has no clue I was specifically concerned about you."

"Thank you, Carson. At least someone respects my wishes in this regard. Unlike Colonel Blabbermouth here."

"Unlike Doctor Denial here I am proud and pleased to have a child on the way," John countered.

"Try puking up every morning!"

"Try being happy about being preg–"

"Please!" Carson interjected. "What the hell is wrong with the pair of you? This is a very special time in your lives and you shouldn't spend it bickering! You need each other, not to be at each other's throats. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the matter stream. I'm sorry, Moira, but it turns out that John's concerns were valid and he was right."

"Ha."

"Shut up," she grumbled to his smug reply.

Carson patted her knee. "I would strongly advise you to avoid all 'Gate travel for at least two months, Moira. There's no need for you to take any unnecessary risks. To be honest we just don't know how the matter stream will interpret two genetic strands of DNA in one body, until that secondary body is more fully formed into a fetus, then a baby. Once that happens in the second trimester you can safely travel through the 'Gate if you so wish. By then you should be well finished with the morning sickness and the fatigue. In fact you'll probably be done with all of that much sooner, but you shouldn't travel through the 'Gate until then. Just to be safe. Moira, you won't be letting your team down. You need to think of yourself now, and the pregnancy."

"I...okay, Carson," she sighed. Met his gaze. "I don't like feeling useless. I don't like letting my team down. I know I have plenty of work here but I figured I'd be doing all of that later, you know. When I can't go because I will be a liability. My husband...my husband has the best intentions at heart but he wants to wrap me in cotton wool and put me on a shelf for nine months. He is overzealously protective."

Carson smiled. "So I've heard, Moira. You are not useless, and you are not letting your team down. As for your husband I will speak to him. Tell him you're not an invalid. Just a pregnant woman."

"Then you can tell my wife she needs to stop fighting the changes and accept them. All of them. Tell her she needs to think only of herself now and John junior. That's it. Nothing else matters. She has plenty of work here to occupy her time, but she needs to select one or two projects and not five at once because that is too many. And she can always occupy my time in every possible way. At any hour. Any."

"All right, John. I will tell your wife to relax and adjust and let you spoil her. Pamper her and protect her, but don't smother her."

John smiled. Touched Moira's shoulder. "Thank you, Carson. And tell her not to wear this ugly, baggy shirt again. I hate it."

"Shut up, John." But she smiled, looked up at him.

He smiled, leaned down to kiss her. "Let's go."

She stood. "Thank you, Carson." She turned, followed John out of the infirmary. "Where–"

"Don't you have work in the bio lab? I've got to see Lorne's team off and check the roster." He stopped her suddenly. "Meet me in ours around, say..." He checked his watch. "Twenty hundred. Oh, that's eight o'clock for you civvies."

She smiled. "Thank you for translating, colonel. Eight o'clock? All right, after din–"

"Dinner, no. Before. You want a date? We're going on a date. A proper date. Ending with very, very improper sex. So scoot!" He gently swatted her rear, laughed at her frown. He headed the other way.


	6. Chapter 6

Bloodlines6

Moira sighed. Stood. Moved to smell the fresh roses. Yet again adjusted the black dress she wore. Tugging at the clingy material. The modest V-neck was not so modest any more. The skirt hugged her rear tightly. Fell to her knees. She walked carefully in the high heels, lifted the skirt to adjust the garter belt holding up the stocking. A surprise for John she knew he would thoroughly enjoy. She tossed her loose hair over her shoulders. Tugged at the dress's long sleeves. Finally moved to the threshold between the two rooms. "John? What's taking you so long?"

In reply he laughed. "Patience, sweetheart," he called. He studied himself in the mirror. "Perfection like this takes time. I'm taking more time now then I ever did on our previous dates." He laughed. Fussed with his hair. Unbuttoned the third button on his shirt.

"Are you saying I was that easy?"

"Yes."

"John!" she scolded.

He laughed. "Weren't you, baby?"

She smiled. "I suppose. You could come out in a burlap sack and still be gorgeous." He laughed. "John, seriously, I'm starving! Let's go, colonel!"

"All right, all right, baby! I just want to make sure you can't resist me."

She laughed. "I will, sweetie, if you starve me! We're not going to the cafeteria, are we?" She sighed, entered his room. "John?" She moved to the window to gaze out at the city lights. The gold illumination gleamed on the dark waters, the dark sky.

"No."

"Let me guess. Southeast pier?"

"Bingo." He stepped out of the bathroom, smiled. Neared silently, gaze on her loose hair. The snug dress hugging her rear. The sexy black stockings, the high heels. "Hey, Moira," he said quietly into her ear, catching the scent of an alluring perfume.

She nearly jumped, whirled. "John! Don't do that! You...oh my God..." Her eyes widened. Shadowy stubble lined his handsome face. A long-sleeved woven shirt of deep violet with subtle gray horizontal stripes clad his lean torso, arms. It was opened at the throat and gave her a teasing, generous view of his chest. The shirt was tucked into a pair of snug black dress pants. With an ornate belt. Shiny black shoes enclosed his feet. She caught a whiff of cologne. A musky, masculine aroma.

John's gaze roved over her. Riveted on the V-neck which was revealing the swells of her breasts more than it ever had. The dress hugging her hips. His gaze wandered back up to her passionate gaze. Lips parted. He touched her cheek. Drew her mouth to his to kiss. A gentle kiss, tongue just brushing hers before he drew back. "Fuck."

She sighed. "Such romantic eloquence, sweetie. But ditto."

He smiled. "You are beautiful, Moy...can we just skip all the romantic crap and go straight to the sex?"

"Hilarious, John. No. Damn, colonel, you have outdone yourself. Wow." She touched the shirt. The opening where chest hair lured her fingers. "John," she saucily asked, tilting her head, "please tell me you have violet shorts on under there. Do you?"

"That's classified, baby. I can't wait to see what you have on under there. If anything." He kissed her again. "Let's go. Dinner awaits." He offered his arm. She took it, smiled.

"Such a gentleman, colonel," she praised.

He licked his lips. "Not for long, baby, so enjoy it now." He slowed to ogle her rear. "Damn...if that dress was any tighter on your pert little ass I'd swear you weren't wearing any–"

"I'm not, flyboy." She smirked at his expression as she glanced at him. "Consider that dessert."

He grinned. "Perfect, baby. We'll eat fast."

She laughed. "Hilarious, John. No." He led her to the southeast pier. It was a warm night. A soft breeze blew. Moira smiled, staring at the table where candles glimmered. A protective corner shielded the table and its contents. He pulled out the chair for her. Sat across from her. "Wow, John, you've done really well here. Carson must have helped."

"Will you stop that! I can do this crap all on my own," he chastised. Lifted the covered trays to reveal two steaks. Potatoes. Rolls. Green beans.

"Sorry, John. You're right. You are the king of romantic gestures. Just not the talking parts."

"Hilarious, Moira. Let's eat. Oh!" He leaned over and produced a beer for himself. A bottle of wine. "Carson said half a glass would be fine. Yes, I checked." He poured her some.

"Thank you." She smiled, tilted her head. "Are you trying to get me drunk, sweetie?"

"No. Only a little tipsy, baby. Makes it easier to get you into bed. Or against a wall."

"Hilarious, John. And you don't have to get me tipsy for that."

He laughed. "Oh. Now you tell me." He leaned over again. Music began to play. Soft, soothing melodies. Suggestive. "Let's eat."

They ate companionably, enjoying the food, the beverages. The company. The beautiful night. The warm air, the breeze. The dark waters crashing under them. Wave after wave striking the pier. Moira sipped her wine, gazing happily upon him. Watching his every motion. John glanced out at the city lights, the dark ocean. Met her gaze. Watched the breeze play with her hair. Gaze straying down to her cleavage. She sipped more wine, licked her lips. Lifted a covered tray. "Strawberries?"

He smiled. "What? You need the safe word already, baby?"

She laughed. Bit into one. "Hmm....delicious." She scooted her chair next to his as he sat back. Drank his beer. "Here, sweetie." She fed him one.

He smiled. Chewed and swallowed. Took another. Ran it over her lips. Let her bite into it. Then leaned close to kiss her. To take the piece from her and swallowed. He kissed her again, savoring the taste of strawberry, of wine, of her. "Moira...shall we?" He stood, held out his hand.

She smiled. Placed her hand in his. Stood. He drew her into a slow dance, holding her close. Ran his mouth along her throat. Up to nibble her earlobe as his hand ran down to gently squeeze her rear. "John!"

"Moira." He kissed her again, turned her gently in a circle. Drew her up against him and kissed her passionately.

Moira slid her hands up his chest, around his neck. Returning his kisses with equal ardor. "Oh John," she gushed into his ear. Circled it and ran her mouth down his throat. She pulled back feeling his fingers tugging up the dress. "John!" she laughed.

He grinned. "What? Oh...oh baby..." He caught a glimpse of the garter belt on her bare thigh before she pulled down the dress. "There's my dessert."

"Yes, sweetie, but not out here." She stepped to the railing. Stared out at the city spires. The water. The lights. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said into her ear, standing behind her. Hands on the railing beside hers. Body just brushing hers. "Very." He kissed her cheek, her throat. "So fucking beautiful," he wooed. "Moira, is this the date you wanted?"

"Yes, John. Thank you. See? It wasn't so hard."

"Oh, it's getting hard, baby, believe me."

"John!" He laughed gently into her hair, arms enfolding her against him. "Oh! I guess you are right, colonel." She wiggled her rear against his arousal.

"Yes. I don't kid about that, baby. You know, I could take you right here. Like this," he offered, considering the idea. "You can hold onto the railing and I can lift up this dress and take that pert little ass to heights of–"

"No." She turned to him, kissed him. Took his hand and led him to the table. She sat. Popped another strawberry into her mouth. "Hmm!"

He sat. Ate one. Licked his lips slowly to entice her. "A toast."

She made a face. "Oh no. No, John. This evening has been perfect."

"Ha ha. I'm serious, Moy." He held up his beer bottle. Raised his brow. She sighed, held up her half empty wine glass. "A toast," he repeated.

"Look, let's just skip this part, shall we?"

"Hush!"

"Did Carson coach you? Otherwise I know what you're going to say. To Moira. And John junior. Whatever." She laughed at his frown.

"No. Carson did not coach me and that is not what I was going to say."

"Oh? So you have agreed then? To Darwin Lyell Carson? Good!"

"Hilarious, Moira! No! John junior. Now what the hell was I going to say? Oh yeah. A toast."

"John, wouldn't you rather just go have sex?"

"What? Stop interrupting, Moira! And yes, I would, but you insist on this romantic–"

"Crap? Admit it, John, you enjoy it too! I mean, this." She gestured at the table, the surroundings.

"Yeah, of course I enjoy it, baby. It's a surefire way to have sex with you. That's why."

She kicked his foot under the table. "Charming, as always, Colonel Romance. Can we–"

"Will you shut up so I can make my fucking toast already?"

She laughed. "Sorry, sweetie. Go on. My arm's getting tired."

He scowled. But smiled. Considered. "A toast."

"Tonight, John?"

"Shut up, Moira." He paused again, abruptly serious. "A toast. I know this isn't exactly how we wanted it, or even planned it, but I love you, Moira. And whatever comes our way, including John junior we'll be fine. You have given me more than I can even express. You know I'm not good at this sort of thing, but you must know I love you. More than I can say. And now with John junior, well...I can't begin to describe the joy and the wonder you've placed in my heart. I've said before I would die for you, Moira, and I still would. But more importantly I want to live for you. For you and for John junior. To erase all the darkness from ourselves, from each other. With this new, incredible light that we have created. Our love. Our passion. And now our son. Our son, Moira! From our love. So, a toast." He clinked his bottle against her glass. Drank. "God that was difficult! But worth it. Moy?"

She was staring at him, tears in her eyes. Entranced. Touched. Enamored. Forgetting to drink. To lower her glass.

"Moy? Did I fuck it up?" he wondered.

"Oh John..." She set her glass down. Stood. He stood. She hugged him tightly. "Oh John! I love you! I love you!"

He smiled. "I guess I didn't. You had me worried there, Moira." He held her close, kissed her brow. "So...can we just have sex now?"

She laughed. "John! Now that was a toast!"

"Glad you finally approve, sweetheart. But that's it! No more of this talking romance emotional crap, okay? Just lots of sex. Lots. All right?"

"Okay, John. Lots." She kissed him. "Now."

"Now? Oh." He freed her. Blew out the candles. Shut off the music. "I'll get this stuff later."

"Okay, John." She smiled at his haste. He caught her hand, led her into the city. "Wow...you left your beer out there!"

"I did? Shit! Hold on!"

"No!" She laughed, pulled him back to her. "I want you sober, sweetie. Completely."


	7. Chapter 7

Bloodlines7

Moira closed the door. Pushed John against it. "I want you, John." She kissed him, slamming her body into his. "Oh John!" she wooed into his ear. Squirming against his hard, lean body.

He kissed her, keeping her against him. "Moira, how do you want me?"

She smiled. "I love that question, sweetie!" She kissed him, drew him to the bed. "Sit. I want to undress you. Taste every part of you. Then you do the same to me. Then sweet and slow, John. All right? Sweet." She kissed him. "And slow." She kissed him again, savoring his lips, his tongue. The trace of strawberries lingering on his mouth. She drew back, smiled. Moved to her knees.

John smiled, eyes riveted to her chest. To the generous V-neck exposing the tops of her breasts. The lack of a bra. She removed his shoes, his socks. Tickled his ankles. Moved up onto her knees, parting his thighs. She unbuckled his belt. Undid his pants. Unzipped. Laughed. "Oh colonel! Your ordnance is becoming quite hard now, quite unruly."

He laughed. "That it is, baby. Oh fuck..." he groaned happily, shifting as she caressed, stroked.

"Ooh! Purple silk!"

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "Just for you, baby. You and that delicious mouth of yours."

"Which one, sweetie?" she saucily asked, tilting her head. He laughed heartily. She smiled, slid her hands up his chest. Caught his mouth in a kiss. He touched her sides, her back, stroking as he responded to kiss after kiss. She ran her tongue along his jaw. Circled his ear until he groaned. Gently bit, then nuzzled his throat. She began to unbutton his shirt, fingers caressing. Kisses following the path of her hands. John smiled, enjoying her attentions. His fingers slid down to grasp her rear, to gently squeeze.

Moira opened his shirt, tugging it out of his opened pants. She kissed him again, taking the shirt from him. He helped her removed it. She stood, draped it over a chair. Returned to him and pulled him to his feet. She tugged down his pants. He stepped out of them. She draped them over the chair. Kissed him again and playfully pushed him onto the bed, onto his back. He laughed, reclining, scooting up to the pillows. She crawled onto him, over him. Kissing up, up his waist, his chest. Teasing the nipples, up to circle his ear again. To bite and kiss and then take his mouth passionately. Sucking his lower lip. "Oh John, oh John, John," she enthused, sliding back down his body. Kissing down his waist. Pulling the shorts perilously low. He groaned.

"Oh fuck, fuck. Moira. Are you going down on me?"

"A little, sweetie, only a little," she answered, "because I want you in me." She kissed up his thigh. Mouthed his hard cock trapped in the purple silk. He moaned, jerking in response.

"Oh fuck! Moira, I'll come, I'll come all over before I can–"

"Ssh, colonel! Where's that vaunted military precision? Hmm? Check your twenty, sweetie. Secure the perimeter." She ran her mouth up the hard length of him. Circled. Took the head into her mouth and sucked the silken material. Hard. Harder. John groaned loudly. Jerked, nearly sitting upright as the sexual arousal became painful, intense. His hands grasped the blankets.

"Fuck! Moira, Just fuck me!" he ordered harshly.

She freed him, laughed. A sultry sound. Slid up to catch his mouth in hers. "Not yet, sweetie. You are so hard now, John...but you can be harder. Hmm?" She ran her fingers in his hair, rolled onto her back. Sat. Swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "Your turn, sweetie. Unless you need to deploy ASAP. Of course," she teased, "if you do you'll be demoted to major again."

He grinned. "Not a chance, baby! Just a sec...that's cruel, baby, bringing me to the brink and then just leaving me like that." He sat, moved to stand in front of her. "Don't touch," he warned as she eyed his poking erection still trapped in the silk shorts. She smirked. He moved to his knees. Unbuckled her shoes. Removed them. Caressed her feet. She murmured.

"Oh John...oh yes..."

"Yes, indeed, baby." He ran his hands up her legs. Scooted the skirt up past her thighs. Smiled. "Fuck that is hot..." he muttered. He spread her thighs, moved between them. Unhooked a belt. Slid down the stocking. Kissed up her thigh, making her murmur, moan. He repeated the procedure on her other leg. He stood. Pulled her to her feet. Kissed her passionately. Tongue gliding, seducing. Mouth possessing hers. Each kiss deeper, longer. His hands running down to grab her rear, to squeeze. To slide up under the dress to grab her naked rear, squeeze harder. She shifted, squealing softly until he freed her.

He lifted the dress up, up, off her body. Gazed upon her with a serious, possessive, lustful intensity that made her react. Made her flood and feel hot. He removed his shorts, guided her back onto the bed. Onto her back. He kissed her lips, fingers tangled in her hair. Kissed her ear, nibbling her earlobe, licking behind to make her squirm. His body pressing on hers now. Moira murmured, whimpering, arching in arousal. In desire as he trailed kisses down her throat. To her breasts. He caressed, cupped, then gently sucked the hard, rosy nipples. Pulling as his hands slid down to spread her thighs. To brush her crotch and wander all along her.

"Oh John! John, John!" she enthused, squirming with desire, with need under him. He ran his mouth down her waist and abdomen. Paused. "Hold on, John junior. Sweet and slow."

"John! Don't say oh God, oh God...oh John..." she whimpered, breathless as he entered her slowly. Groaned with the relief, the pleasure. Moira pulled him closer, kissing him repeatedly as he gently rocked her. A steady but slow rhythm. Every inch of him sliding along every inch of her. Increasing the tempo slowly. Slowly.

"Oh baby...yes, oh fuck, fuck! Harder, Moira, tighter now. Moira, yeah, yeah...that's it! A little faster now?"

"Yes, John, a little oh oh!" She rocked with him as he increased the speed. Bringing them closer, closer to a mutual climax. Moira's fingers ran up and down his arms as he kissed her. Groaned with a sudden thrusting, needing to bring them quickly now. The tension unbearable. "John! Oh John, John, John!" Moira cried softly, as she was suddenly rocked wildly. The orgasm spiraled, bloomed into pleasure and pulsing sensations. "John!"

"Oh Moira! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh fuck that is sweet!" he growled, thrusting harder. Shuddered as he came, a rush of release that nevertheless kept him moving until he was drained pleasantly. He fell gently upon her. Sighed happily. "Ah. How was that, baby?"

"Wonderful, sweetie! Oh John!" she purred, kissing him.

He rolled them so she was on top of him. Kissed her. "Let's get under and go to sleep, baby. Are you okay?"

She slid under the blankets with him. Slid over him again. "Oh yes! Yes, John! I'm fine. You are so fucking good at this, John! Perfect!"

He smirked. "So are you, sweetheart. Making love with Moira Sheppard," he teased, kissing her. Arms encircling her. "Perfect way to end our date, isn't it?"

"Yes," she gushed. "I do love sex with John Sheppard." She kissed him. "You...um, you were satisfied, weren't you? I mean, I know you prefer it more, um, exuberant or–"

"Yeah, but I'm fine, sweetheart. I like it however, whenever, whatever. As long as you come. And I come. Don't be silly, Moy. Go to sleep. We should let John junior rest."

"John! Stop calling it that! It's not an ouch!" she protested as he swatted her rear.

"He! He's not a baby yet but he will be. Hush! Keep that luscious body on mine, baby. I may go back for seconds. And thirds."

"Hilarious, John! Go to sleep. I'm exhausted."

* * *

John woke. Gasping. Grabbing. Heart hammering. About to shout no but the word was strangled in his throat. He nearly shot out of the bed, but found himself entangled with Moira. He got up, staring round at the dark room. Nightmarish images were fading. Falling to pieces as his conscious mind took over, but he recalled some of them. A Wraith queen. Moira walking away from him, leading a little dark-haired boy by the hand. Her voice sad, telling him she had no choice, she had made a deal, a bargain to keep him safe, to raise the city. The colonel, his dark side doppelganger taking her. Taking his wife and his son.

"John?" Moira muttered, rolling in the bed. Reaching out for him, half asleep.

He looked at her, reassuring himself she was there. She was real. He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart," he whispered. Waited for her to doze off once more. A smile on her rosy lips. He moved to his room. Pulled on a pair of gray running pants. A gray sweatshirt. Running shoes. Ran a hand through his hair and quietly left.

John made his way to the cafeteria. Grabbed a beer and drank deeply. Nightmarish images still haunting him. Making him tense, uneasy. He whirled hearing a noise. Smirked. Rodney McKay was snatching a big piece of chocolate cake from the display. He straightened, startled.

"Oh! I was just, um, um, just getting a...John? Couldn't sleep?"

"No. You?"

Rodney sat at a table. "Got hungry. I've been working on a particularly difficult set of equations. So much so I can't seem to think of anything else. I can't turn off my brain so I'd thought I'd–"

"So it's like your mouth?" John quipped, joining him.

"Ha ha." Rodney sighed. "You?"

"Nightmare. Came out of nowhere. Woke me out of a sound sleep."

"Oh. About Moira?"

"I don't want to talk about it." John drank. Rodney ate.

"Sorry. Hey! Is she pregnant?"

John hesitated. Briefly smiled. "Yeah."

"Yes? Yes! Congratulations, John!" Rodney slapped him on the shoulder, nearly causing him to spill his beer.

"Thanks, Rodney."

"Wow! I mean, wow! That's fantastic! Isn't it?"

"Yes! Of course it is."

"No wonder you had a nightmare."

"Come again?"

Rodney chewed and talked at the same time, pointing his fork at his friend for emphasis. "Well, that's a lot of responsibility, John, all at once. First the marriage, now a kid on the way. What's the rush?"

"There's no rush," John countered. "I don't like wasting time, is all."

"Think about it, John. You've just turned your whole world upside down. Moira's too. And mine. How are you going to balance all three? Being military commander of Atlantis and our team leader, plus being a husband and now a father? Four. You'll need to balance four," he corrected.

"I'll manage," John stated, but faltered.

"Will you? That's a lot of hats to wear at once," Rodney countered, setting down his fork. "Little Rodney Sheppard's going to have a tough time of it as it is, being here on Atlantis and heir to–"

"Whoa, whoa, Rodney Sheppard?" John asked, stressing the first name. Amused. Irritated.

"Yes, of course," said Rodney matter-of-factly. "You'll name your son after your brilliant scientist and best friend. Me. Don't let Moira give him a weird Irish name, because his life will be hell with an unusual name. Even if it is a revered family one," he grumbled. "Oh! That's why Carson was asking me all those oblique questions about 'Gate travel and the matter stream and pregnant women! Why didn't he just say it was Moira? And he knew before me? Well, of course he did," he continued before John could get a word in, "he would have to, wouldn't he, being the doctor and all. Right? That's the only reason."

"Yes, that's the only reason," John concurred, neglecting to mention how many other people knew before his friend did. He added mischievously, "In fact Moira wants to name him Carson Sheppard. Oh, and some other scientist's name to–"

"What? No! Carson? Carson is a much worse name than Rodney! No! Do the kid a favor, John, and avoid that name. Let me think. Got it! Rodney Hawking Einstein Sheppard is a perfect–"

"Hawking?"

"Stephen Hawking, only one of the greatest minds of this century! And Einstein–"

"I know who Einstein is!" John snapped. "This is why I don't let you name anything or–"

"That's settled, then. Lucky I was here to help you. Carson?" He shook his head. "Can you handle all of this? What about going on missions? Leading our team? And Moira? Will she still be going on missions? Will she still be a part of Lorne's team? Are you sure you're ready for this, John, because I'm not sure I am. And the Wraith! My God...you do realize you just created the Holy Grail of ATA gene recipients, don't you? Your kid has the propensity for accessing Ancient tech we can't even initialize yet! His genetic codes could be off the charts!"

"I know. I–"

"Did you think of any of this before you impregnated Moira?" Rodney asked. He snapped his fingers. "Moira! Of course! She might be stronger now. She's got the ATA gene times two, right? Maybe times three since hers in encoded twice but I don't know how that all works. It could be twice though since we are still talking on a cellular division level, right? Bring her to my lab tomorrow and I can run a few tests to determine the–"

"Rodney! My wife is not one of your science projects! It's only the ATA gene! She doesn't have sudden super powers!" He paused. "Does she?"

"Maybe. John, you've opened up a whole new set of parameters and problems. Possibilities. For the advancement of the ATA gene and genetic mutations. I wonder if she could access some of the more obscure systems we haven't been able to–"

"Rodney! My wife and child are not your latest scientific toys! You'll not do any–"

"Of course not, John, don't be ridiculous. They are tools to further our understanding of the ATA gene and its applications to Ancient tech. And how the gene passes in strength from one generation to the next. Carson will have to be involved in this. And it is just Moira with her double encoding of the ATA gene. There's no baby yet so she could logically access the combination of genes developing in her–"

John stood, slammed his hand on the table. "Damn it! What is with you scientists? He is a baby, well, he will be soon enough, but even now he is my son! My son! And his fucking name is John junior!" He strode away.

Rodney shrugged, unperturbed. "Okay, John, simmer down. John Rodney Sheppard is fine with me." He proceeded to happily devour the chocolate cake.


	8. Chapter 8

Bloodlines8

John strode through Atlantis. Anger reverberating in every footstep. He climbed to the upper levels of the city. Began to jog. To run. To work off the stress, the fury, the nightmarish fear of loss still haunting him. As if he could run from his past. From his responsibilities. From his doubts. Things he had submerged because of Moira. To take care of Moira, to reassure Moira, to convince Moira that everything would be fine. Even if he himself wasn't sure. He almost resented her for that but realized she had the same doubts, worries, fears. Her own dark past. Her own responsibilities.

On the fourth turn he paused, catching his breath, hands on his thighs. He knew he should get back to her before she awakened and found him gone. Almost resented her for that too. He sighed. Recalled the seductive wooing, the loving sex. He wanted more. Needed more. Resented her for knowing that too, but not offering. He hated his resentment.

Moira woke, rolling over and reaching. She felt John's absence. Missed the solid warmth of his body. The masculine strength and security next to her. Entwined with her. She sat, looked round the dark room. Listened. "John?" She heard a noise in his room. "John?" She scooted up and leaned on her side to reach for the dim light on the table.

John walked in just as the light flickered to life. Casting a pallid glow on her. The fall of her messy hair. The slope of her naked back. A teasing view of her naked rear before she scooted back under the blankets, but sat. Stared at him as he stood in the doorway.

"John?"

John stared at her. At the tendrils of hair curling along her bare breasts, almost concealing the pink nipples until she suddenly covered herself with the blankets.

"John?" she repeated. Unnerved at his silence. His stare.

"I went running." He stepped to the bed. Pulled off his shirt. Sweat glinted on his skin, in his chest hair. He turned away and sat.

"Running? At three in the morning?" she asked, reacting to the sight of him. The muscles moving under his sweaty skin. His voice was low, husky.

He leaned over to untie his shoes. "Yeah. I needed a beer," he explained.

Moira watched his bare back. The sweat glinting along his skin. The pants sliding down, down, revealing his naked rear. "A beer? At three in the morning? And you went commando?"

"Yeah." He straightened. Stood. Pulled off his pants. "I had a bad dream," he said gruffly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He got into bed beside her. Met her worried gaze. "Who the hell is Lyell?"

It took her a moment to process the question. "Lyell? Oh! Charles Lyell, a Victorian geologist who postulated natural processes such as erosion and volcanic activity occurred in the past at about the same rates now instead of some catastrophic supernatural event. He's the father of modern geology and–"

"Oh. I know who Darwin was," he opined, as if expecting a challenge.

"Of course you do, John. You're not stupid or ignorant," she soothed, perplexed. He relaxed a little. "Do you want to talk about your bad dream?"

"No. I'm done talking, Moira. Done." He yanked the blankets from her, off her. Gazed hungrily at her naked body.

She shifted, uncomfortable. "John?"

"You were right, Moira. I'm not satisfied. Not at all." He kissed her, shoved her abruptly onto her back. Hands gliding, caressing. Arousing.

"John?" she repeated, as his mouth ran down her throat. Gently nibbling. His body pressing on hers. "Do you want–"

"Isn't it obvious, baby?" he asked gruffly. "I need this." His mouth wandered down to her breasts.

Moira moaned, whimpered. Lost herself in the sheer sensuality of his teasing tongue. His soft lips. Rougher stubble brushing her skin. As he kissed and sucked, gently bit, making her gasp, squirm. The feel of his tense, straining body pinning hers. Sweat and cologne mingling. She cried out softly, fingers on his arm as he bit a little harder, but freed her before he hurt her, hearing the change in her voice. His fingers began to play between her legs, caressing, stroking. Arousing her to where he wanted, needed her to be. He kissed down her waist, to her abdomen.

"Hold on, John junior," he said against her skin, lifted his head to glance upon her, tensing. But no reprimand came. She said nothing, murmuring, tensing at his seductions. He relaxed. Resumed. Kissed down to her mound. Nibbled until she was squirming wildly, soft sounds escaping her lips making him even harder, hungrier. He kissed along her pelvis, then her thigh, fingers stroking, probing the heat, the flooding desire enveloping her.

Moira gasped, moaned, whimpered in a stuttering breath as he seemed to be teasing her into a double although he didn't say a word. She wondered at his silence. The only sounds were soft grunts and groans. She wondered why he was stalling. She could feel his erection pressing, pressing on her thigh. Angrily she did not say his name, but couldn't stop the sounds issuing from her parted lips, her throat. She gave him no words, no litany of his name. Yet she arched, lifting as his tongue replaced his long fingers. But his fingers tickled all along her, searching, seeking so intimately she writhed, clutched the bed, bit her lip to stop the words, the pleading from escaping her mouth.

Her silence pissed him off, because he knew she was ready, ready to plead, to beg for it. Even as his erection was throbbing painfully now. Balls so tight, tense. But he stubbornly waited until she was coming. Her nub beginning to pulse in time to him. Muscles contracting, just waiting to grab his cock and squeeze it, squeeze it. He waited until his name broke from her lips at last as her body tightened, tensed. Flooded.

Moira found it unbearable, the heightened, relentless arousal without relief. "John!" broke from her lips, voice breathless. Strangled. The building pleasure excruciating.

He freed her, thrust into her suddenly. Groaned as she clutched him, clenched him, as if fighting him. Squeezing his cock so hard he nearly ejaculated but kept thrusting. Roughly, harder and faster as he took her. He was too aroused to come quickly or easily.

"Oh John! John, John!" she cried in a rush, helpless, coming so fast she thought she'd die. Pissed he hadn't warned her about going full throttle, driving wildly into her. The bed was rocking. The headboard slamming, slamming the wall.

John thrust harder, faster. Giving himself over to the pure sexual pleasure, possession. She was snug but so wet he filled her easily. Deeply, creating waves and waves of friction and pleasure. He groaned, grunting as the release was coming hard and fast. Pounding him as he pounded into her. Pounded the bed into submission.

Moira was writhing beneath him as if trying to escape the engorged member repeatedly impaling her. Over and over, faster and faster. Finding herself being shoved up the bed, nearly into the headboard she grabbed his arms. The bed was rocking wildly still, the headboard slamming the wall so hard the table shook. Things fell off it. Pleasure escalating to exuberant heights. He kissed her hard. Tongue thrusting nearly in time to his cock now. She ran her nails down his bare back. Hard. Making him groan, grunt, but he didn't lose any momentum.

Moira freed her mouth from him to cry out in a stuttering, breathless whimper. A sob. She slid her hands down to grab his firm rear. Squeezed the clenching cheeks. He moaned into her skin, nearly biting her in abrupt surprise. Arousal sharp. Her fingers slid down, between his legs, roughly scraping him, grabbing, squeezing to bring him harder.

John jerked, groaned in surprise, shock, a double orgasm slamming into him as her bold handling traveled to places she had never held before. Probing and caressing until he violently shuddered. "Fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned, shouted. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" he exclaimed, arching in ejaculation.

Moira lost her breath, her legs flung wide, up out his way as he plowed her. "John! Oh John, John, please!" she sobbed, the climax overcoming her as he brought her again, seemingly unstoppable as he was still hard, erect, plying her deeply. She cried out, almost screamed at the rush of pleasure. "John!"

A crack sounded. Startling Moira who gasped, grabbed onto John who was oblivious, taking her in the rush to release. "John!" she cried, glancing up as another crack interrupted their moans, their cries. The splintered headboard was careening to one side. Half of it fell to the floor with a loud crash. "John! John!"

But John kissed her, taking her mouth as deeply as he was taking her intimately. Not caring about the headboard as the rush of pleasure drained him. He thrust a few more times, finally sated, finally relaxing. He fell upon her, utterly spent. "Fuck," he muttered. "Son of a bitch! You fucking took my..." He looked up suddenly, exhausted but sated. Stunned by the double she had inflicted. He eyed the broken headboard. "Oh." He slid out of her, shifting his weight off her, still staring at the smashed wood. He caught his breath, licked his lips.

He felt the sweat of their bodies, the slickness of the sex, the aroma heavy on them. Intoxicating. He smiled lazily, smugly. Wishing he'd brought a beer with him. Throat dry. "Damn, baby, we fucked it to pieces finally. Moira...my God...you...oh fuck..." He met her gaze. She was staring at him, wide-eyed. "You gave me a fucking double, baby! A double! Fuck! I've never had a...Moira?"

She caught her breath, tears blurring her vision. Astounded at his stamina, his endurance. The pleasure vibrating all over her. She couldn't speak. Swallowed. Felt sweaty, exhausted. Sticky. "John..." she whispered.

He kissed her gently. Brushed her hair from her flustered face. "Moy? I...um, had some, um, things to, um, work out, I guess. You...you brought me so hard I had to, um, reciprocate. I wanted you so badly, baby, so badly I...shit..." He slid down, kissing her breasts, her waist. "John junior's okay, right?"

"Yes." She swallowed, shifted. "You know, John, most men would just talk to their wives, not try to fuck them to death."

He met her gaze, slid back up her body. "Oh. Sorry. I, um..."

She eyed his sudden chagrin, uncertainty. The glint of tears in his brilliant green eyes, tears of unexpected pleasure. "And you finally fucked the headboard to pieces. Congratulations, colonel."

"Yeah, we did that! We fucked that thing to..." His grin and pride halted. "Wait. Moira? I can't tell if you're pleased or pissed. Moira? I know you came. You came so hard you nearly screamed, baby. Twice. Nearly squeezed the cock off of me." He rolled off her, onto his back. Wiped his sweaty brow. "Fuck. If we get any more exuberant we'll implode the city, baby. Moira? Talk to me, damn it!"

"And say what, sweetie? Good job, colonel. You fucked me speechless?"

He frowned at her annoyed tone. "Hilarious, Moira! If that's what it takes, baby. What is your problem now?"

"Oh, now you want to talk? Now that you worked through your issues? Your fucking nightmare or whatever else you're keeping from me? Keeping bottled up inside you? Well, good for you, colonel." She rolled away from him, onto her side.

John smiled. He spooned against her, arm sliding over her waist. "Come on, Moy-toy. That was the best single sexual experience we've both had. A double, baby! No woman has ever given me a double! And I know I gave you one. Hell, several. We even involved John junior. Ah. Is that it? You are...oh, I get it now. Here comes the melodrama. Oh John," he mimicked, "how could you? Oh John, you're bringing me too hard, too fast, too often. Oh John, I'm drowning in your sexual prowess and the most intense orgasms. Is that it?"

"Shut up!"

"Come on, Moira, you love it. Why do you still pretend otherwise? Baby, you've never been so sexually pleasured in your life. Nor have I. Fuck." He laughed against her skin. Kissed her bare shoulder. "You are the only woman who has ever complained about being too pleasured. About having too many orgasms. About having such intense climaxes you weep with pleasure. I've never had a woman complain about not being satisfied, but you are the only one who complains because she is too satisfied."

"Shut up, John!" She shoved backwards, yanking the covers over her. "I hate you!"

"Ah." He spooned against her again, undeterred. "Of course you do, baby. The more I possess and pleasure you, the more I dominate and take you the more you hate me. But you really mean the opposite, I know. I could have inadvertently hurt you, Moy. Next time you decide to play with all of my equipment, and go full on into the forbidden zone warn a guy, would you?"

"Then next time warn me when you decide to go full fucking throttle! And telling John junior doesn't count, you son of a bitch! God, I hate it when you do that! When you bring me so hard, so damn hard I want to beg you, beg you to fuck me. To bring me. To fuck me as hard and as fast as you can. You and that damn huge ordnance of yours!"

He smiled. Kissed her shoulder. Scooted back to pull her onto her back. He moved over her, kissing her. "I love it, and so do you, baby. Only you can't seem to admit it. Ah ha! You said it! You finally said it! Finally called him John junior!"

"It! Called it by your–"

"Him!"

"You son of a bitch! You son of a–" She hit him, almost decked him but he caught her wrists. Pinned them against the bed. Moved on top of her, adjusting so his cock pressed between her legs.

"You said it, baby! You finally said it! I had to fuck you to unbelievable heights of passion and pleasure but you finally said it! John junior! So it's official now!"

"No! Shut up! It is not! You bastard! You just can't leave it alone, can you? You can't stop pushing, pushing until you get your way, until you get your–"

"Shut up, Moira," he countered, cutting off her anger with a lengthy kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Bloodlines9

John drowned her protests, her anger, her distress in a lengthy, passionate kiss. The motion of his mouth on hers possessive, savoring. He freed her wrists, fingers gliding down her arms into her hair. "No," he said, finally freeing her mouth from his. "I can't leave it, and I have to keep pushing, Moira. I won't stop. And if we have to have sex until you admit I'm right, that he is John junior we will. As often as we need to, baby." He kissed her again, shifting on her. "Fuck...arguing with you always gets me stiff."

"No, John!" She stared, squirming under him. She touched his face. "Really?"

He smiled at her surprise. "Feel that?" He kissed her again. "Well? I won't go full throttle, baby." He shoved her thighs apart as she murmured.

"I...I don't think I can take another oh God, oh God, oh John, John..."she whispered as he slid into her. A gentle yet hurried thrust. She arched as he kissed her breasts. "John!"

"Fuck...just a quickie, baby...when you are angry I can't keep my cock out of you oh yes, yes, that's it, Moira...yes...so fucking sweet." He thrust slowly, savoring every motion .

Moira moaned, arching, clutching his arms as he took her again. He kissed her, tongue thrusting just as deftly, just as deeply. She squirmed, whimpering as the impending orgasm circled, circled. He moved a little faster, harder. Relaxed and released with a groaning sigh. Moira broke from his mouth to moan, to gasp as the climax rippled in her. "John! Oh John, John, John!" The pleasure was sharp but sweet.

John kissed down her throat, slid out of her. Rolled onto his back, pulling her so she was on top of him. "Better, baby? Go to sleep. It's got to go down some time. Right?"

She laughed. Snuggled on him. "Please, John...I can't take any more! Put the safety on that thing, would you? Can someone die from all that sex?"

He laughed. "Not yet, baby, but you nearly killed me with that double. Go to sleep, sweetheart."

"I still hate you, sweetie," she grumbled, cuddling on him.

He smiled. "Back at you, baby."

* * *

John stirred, hearing retching sounds. He buried into the blankets, but suddenly realized he was alone. Realized it was Moira. He blearily opened his eyes. Faint light filled the room. He rolled onto his back, sat as the toilet was flushed. As water ran. "Moy? Are you all right?" Silence. "Sweetheart?"

Moira emerged, half awake, clad in a green nightshirt. She glared at him. Got into the bed next to him. "You and your damn sperm," she accused, rolled onto her side. Curling up in the blankets.

He spooned against her, arm over her waist gently. Gently caressing her abdomen. "Sorry," he said quietly. Kissed her cheek.

"Just leave me alone, John," she muttered, trying to pull away from his warmth. His concern. His love. The press of his body. But he merely drew her back to him. Kept her close.

"No. Relax, Moira. I'm not going anywhere," he replied quietly. "And neither is John junior, so just relax."

She caught his hand on her waist, caressed his fingers. "John...I..." She felt tears. "John...you, you won't be, um, going on a mission, will you?" she asked in a small voice.

He kissed her cheek, settling comfortably. "No, Moira. Not for a few weeks. Relax. I'm right here with you. Every step of the way, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

* * *

Moira woke much later. Scooted and sat free of John. He was sprawled, snoring loudly. "John! John!" She elbowed him. He snorted, rolled onto his side. Quieted. Still asleep. She shook her head, amused at the less than glamorous image he presented now compared to last night. She smacked his rear.

"Huh? Hey!" He woke, rolled onto his back. Blinked and eyed her. "Moy?"

"Rise and shine, colonel. Are you going spend all day in bed?"

"Depends." He smiled. "Are you?"

"Hilarious, John. Move. Don't you have work to do?"

"Yes. What's the rush, sweetheart?"

She sighed. "Unlike you I have a fucking timetable now. Morning puke. Toast breakfast. Work until about eleven or so. Then I have to take a nap. Then lunch. Then oh...well, then I usually crave some sexual activity, but I can skip that. Then more work until–"

"Whoa, I can help you there," he offered. He sat, smiled. Caught her hand. "So...nap around eleven. Then lunch. Then sex. Got it. Don't you worry, baby. I'm here now to assuage all of your needs. Every single one of them. Have me paged. I'm serious."

She frowned. "It's not funny, John!" He laughed anyway. She glared, got out of the bed. Moved to her bathroom. Closed the door. John smirked, got out of the bed. Moved to the door. Knocked. "Go away!" she shouted.

He grinned. "I'm serious, Moy," he said loudly. "Page me. Page Colonel Sheppard to his ordnance check, baby, and I'll be there with bells on. Well, with balls, certainly."

"John! Shut up!"

"Love you too, sweetheart." He hit the door, laughed. Moved to his room.

* * *

Moira moved from monitor to monitor. Checking the progress of each computer, each system running its own program. She paused, leaning over Julie Armstrong's shoulder as she munched from a bag of Doritos. "There! Are there any common features in any of those planets?"

Julie shrugged, shaking her blond hair. "Only the lack of any identifiable vegetation or life. The records are non-existent, for the most part. Lack of data. I would guess, judging by how far these planets are from the center of this galaxy that there's not much there. Why the interest?"

"I'm tracking something. Backwards. Long story," Moira sighed. "Oh! Sorry!" She smirked, brushed crumbs of chips off her friend's shoulder. Offered the bag.

Julie laughed. Grabbed a handful of chips. "Thanks. This isn't really my field, you know. This is more of an astrophysicist thing, not a geologist thing. Whatever it is."

"True...but I needed a geologist to interpret the slim data. These planets...could they support life? Any kind of life?"

"No. That is to say, no. Not life as we would recognize it, at least. From this data it looks as if two are in the primordial stage. The others...maybe. Primitive life, certainly not human. Which is odd, considering the Ancients placed Stargates there. Didn't they?"

Moira shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Damn it, I do need Rodney on this as well. I hope he's in a good mood."

Julie snorted. "Offer him those chips and he will be." The women laughed.

Moira entered the physics lab. "Rodney? Rodney, I need a favor. I need–"

"Ah, Moira! Perfect! I need you. I knew John wouldn't let me down. Oh! Congratulations, by the way! You must be very happy. Now I believe that you have the potential for a double."

Moira froze, staring at the smiling scientist as he sat at a console. She colored at the word double, recalling John's assertion, effusions. The aggressive sex. "Excuse me? You...oh no. Oh no! He told you?"

"Of course he told me. Last night. We happened to meet in the cafeteria. I needed a sugar rush to unblock a particularly complex set of equations. He had some kind of bad dream. Wouldn't tell me about it but I'm sure it involved you and the kid, I mean, wow, that's a lot of responsibility to be suddenly shouldering as well as protecting the city and anyway I need to run some tests. Chips?" He snatched the bag from her.

"Tests?" she asked, finally able to break in as he stopped only to take a breath.

"Yes, tests. I believe, well, I know and only need the evidentiary proof that you have a double ATA gene, potentially. Perhaps even a triple since you have yours, then the combination of John's and yours embedded in the genetic code of your kid. This will really help our research into the Ancient tech and the ATA gene's adaptability to–"

"Rodney! I am not a scientific experiment!" she snapped. "Besides, isn't this Carson's–"

"Yes, yes, of course, but I'm more interested in the technical aspects, the practical applications. And I know. John told me you're not my new science toy, nor is your pregnancy, but the genetic codes you are carrying now will be at least twice as strong as yours alone. Maybe even stronger than John's. So I need you to try to initiate a few systems to see if–"

"No! I need you to run a progressive scan of my trajectory in the bio lab. Can't you test me there?"

"What? No! The what? Why? I need you here, Moira. These systems," he patted the console, "and more specifically there," he pointed, "which we haven't been able to even access yet. Just a few simple tests will either confirm or deny the embryo has the ATA gene doubled in you and your–"

"No! I am not a science experiment and neither is my son!" She smacked the console angrily, suddenly surprised she had said the words John wanted to hear. The console flared to life, powering wildly. Monitors went offline. She gasped, removed her hand from the console. "Did I do that?"

"Yes! Yes! Moira, yes, you did that! Wow! Touch it again!" Rodney enthused.

"McKay," John's voice came over the comm, sounding irritated, "we're detecting a power surge in your lab and in the one below yours. Did you blow up another–"

"No." He tapped his earpiece. "No, Sheppard, it wasn't me. It was Moira! She's got it!"

"Moira? Has what? Damn it, Rodney, what are you doing to my–"

"Nothing! But I just proved my hypothesis. McKay out!"

Moira touched the console carefully. It powered up quietly. Calmly. "Better?"

"Yes. Because you weren't upset. No substantial increase in the power ratio, and no additional surges in secondary systems. I bet if you concentrated you could do it again. Calmly. As you know most of the Ancient tech is interactive, controlled by the mind as much as the gene, no, probably more so in the more sophisticated systems."

"You mean like the Ancient Chair?"

"Exactly, or like that gunnery on the mainland. You controlled that."

"With Evan's help...it was so draining..." she remembered.

"Because the AI was resisting you. There's no resistance here, Moira. And you are stronger now. Concentrate and you can control the system. Boost the power and think of bringing up...let's see...the schematics of the city."

"I'll try..." She was doubtful. Touched the console with both hands. Closed her eyes.

"Excellent. Power rising...good. Now bring it up, slowly. Think of the city schematics. There, you're doing it! Moira, keep your–"

"Rodney!" John's strident tone startled them. The power surged, the monitor crashing. Moira let go, opening her eyes. She stumbled backwards as Rodney swore, jumped from his chair. John reached her in three strides, caught her deftly. "Moira, are you all right? How do you feel? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm fine, I–"

"Damn it, Rodney! If you have harmed her or my son in any way I swear I'll–"

"I'm fine, John, let go!" She stood free of him. "It wasn't draining, not like the gunnery. You were right, Rodney. No AI resistance...and it was easier. Much easier. I'm fine, John, really. And so is John junior." She glanced at him as the words slipped out of her. He nodded. Beamed at her use of the name. She shrugged, shook her head. Turned to Rodney. "Is that because of the double ATA in me?"

"Yes. I think I just proved it, Moira. The combination of yours and John's is not only unprecedented, but quite intriguing. That kid is going to be a powerhouse. Think of all the systems he could activate and even develop, under my guidance, of course. Little Rodney Hawking Einstein Sheppard is going to be a force to be reckoned with!"

"Excuse me?" She glanced at John who shook his head.

John pointed at Rodney. "That's all him, I swear!"

She looked back at Rodney. "You mean little Darwin Lyell Carson Sheppard will be a force to be reckoned with."

"What? No! John and I agreed last night that Rodney is a way better name than Carson!"

"Oh you did, did you?" she asked, looking from one to the other. "John?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "I never–"

"And while I do respect your choices of scientists, mine are better. Certainly better suited to this city, this galaxy and to my namesake."

"Yours? You...who said you get to name him?"

"I did," Rodney answered calmly, oblivious to her outrage. "I'm John's best man and his best friend, not to mention a brilliant scientist who–"

"I'm his wife and am carrying his child!" she exclaimed, stunned at his pomposity.

"Technically, yes, but his obvio–"

"Technically?" she snapped. "You arrogant, pigheaded–"

"Whoa, whoa," John intervened, trying not to laugh, stepping between them, "scientists in separate corners, please." He pointed at Rodney. "You're not allowed to name anything or anyone, remember? My son is not, I repeat not going to have any science names. He's not going to be the biggest science geek in Atlantis."

"What's wrong with being a science geek?" Rodney and Moira asked at the same time. They exchanged a glance.

John smiled. "Nothing, I guess...but you two are going to make him one by labeling him with all those science names. His name is John junior. We will, and by we I mean Moira and I will decide upon a middle name later. No, in this galaxy he can still be John junior without my middle name. I've decided," he insisted before either could point out the fault in his logic. "No scientists. No names of friends. No weird Irish names either. Got it? I want an all-American name for my son. Got it?" He smiled at their subdued moods. Sulking expressions.

"Fine," Rodney muttered.

"Fine," Moira echoed. "I've got actual work to do."

"No! Wait! I want to pit you against each other!" Rodney offered.


	10. Chapter 10

Bloodlines10

John exchanged a glance with Moira. "I don't think so."

"How?" Moira asked, interested. She smiled slyly at John. "I bet I could take him."

John smirked. "Really? You could take me?"

"I bet she could too," Rodney agreed. "Right now her ATA is double yours."

"Oh, I get it now. Moira and John junior against me? Well, that's not very fair."

"Don't be a spoilsport, John," Moira chastised. "Are you afraid to lose to a girl?"

John smiled. "No. I'm afraid of winning over a pregnant woman." They laughed.

"All right, this is so on! Sit there, opposite each other," Rodney instructed. "We've been having trouble even initializing this console."

"This won't harm John junior, will it?" John asked as he sat across from Moira. Gazed upon her loose hair. The dark green turtleneck which hugged her breasts. The dark slacks.

"No, of course not!" Rodney asserted. Paused. "Moira?"

"He'll be fine," she agreed. "Let's–" she started, gazing upon John in his black long-sleeved zippered shirt, gray pants.

"Ha! He will be fine," John emphasized the pronoun with a grin.

She sighed. "Shut up," she scolded mildly.

"It's an easy enough test. Whichever of you can initiate, then completely power the–"

John touched the console. It flared to life.

"Hey! He cheated!" Moira complained, touching her console. It flared with power.

John laughed. "You snooze you lose, baby. This will be easy!"

"Bring it, sweetie!" she countered. They laughed.

Rodney looked from one to the other, shaking his head. He eyed his monitor. "You're neck and neck right now. Come on, Moira, I expected better."

"I'm just giving him a lead out of pity," she teased.

"Watch and learn, Moira." He met her gaze, licked his lips. Slowly. Wet his bottom lip.

"Shit. That's not fair, John."

"All's fair in love and war, Moira." He closed his eyes. Concentrating.

She smirked. Softly moaned. "Oh John, oh John," she teased in a breathy voice, causing him to lose focus. The power flickered.

"Hey!" he scolded.

Moira laughed. "All's fair, colonel." She closed her eyes. He smiled, eying her. Closed his eyes once more.

"All right, both have initiated. John's prematurely–"

"What else is new?" Moira quipped.

"Shut up, Moira," John mildly reprimanded.

"But you're neck and neck again!" Rodney's gaze followed both systems on his monitor. Oblivious to their flirtation. Concentrating on the readouts. "There! All systems in the database. Moira's pulling ahead! Way to go!"

"Whose side are you on?" John complained.

"Mine, of course, flyboy," Moira answered.

"Watch it, princess. I'm not even trying that hard."

"And we both know how hard, how very hard you can be, John," she teased, voice lingering on the provocative word.

"No foreplay," John ordered.

"What system, Rodney?" Moira asked.

"What?" Rodney had been distracted by their playful banter. Their flirtatious teasing. Envying their affection, their relationship. Moira so relaxed. John so easy-going. In sync with one another. Clearly in love with each other. "Bring up grids of the city," he decided.

"Got it," she confirmed.

"Shit. So do I," John stated.

"And the secondary grid, Rodney? And the–"

"Whoa, whoa, Moira, don't overload the system! Power down before you crash the database. What the hell are you accessing? Wow! We have a clear winner. You can power down, John. Shouldn't take you too long. Damn! Moira almost fried the twin panels!"

"Only because she cheated," John decided, opening his eyes.

Moira opened hers. "How? You started early."

"Oh John," he clarified. "And that moan made me–"

"Shut up. You are a sore loser."

John stood. Moved to stand behind her. Touched her shoulders. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. We're fine," she clarified with a sigh. "Okay, John? Happy now?"

"Yes. Although I will be happier after lunch," he teased. Winked as she turned to him. He kissed her. "So, Rodney? Does she have superpowers?"

"Huh? Excuse me. Do you want to get a room?" he snapped.

Moira colored, shifted on the stool. "Sorry, Rodney. I–"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea and what we should do," John agreed. "Moira, let's–"

"No. Rodney, was there a substantive increase in the power ratios?"

"Oh, you are interested?" Rodney asked testily. "Yes. A ratio proving that you have a double ATA gene encoded in your cells for now. That the strength of John's and yours combined is quite a development."

"There's quite a substantive increase in the size of my cock," John whispered in her ear, "if you are interested, baby."

Moira snorted. "John!" she laughed, elbowed him. "Stop it!" She glanced down, smirked. "Not a measurable one, colonel."

He grinned. "Not yet, but soon, I promise. What is our schedule again? Oh yes. Nap. Lunch. Then Sheppard's delight."

She smiled. "Stop it." She stood. "Rodney, do you think our ATA genes are so strong because we are from Earth? An isolated population that was never specifically bred to produce the gene in its descendants unlike the populations here. At least the Ancients, supposedly."

Rodney blinked. "Oh. Yes. Yes, that would explain it. And why the gene seems to be so diluted in the populations here."

"I know this is Carson's field but I thought I'd bounce the idea off of you. With an ever diminishing gene pool of viable ATA gene carriers why would the Ancients make so many of their systems dependent upon gene carriers to enable them?"

"Good question, Moira," John agreed, touching her back. Caressing. "Seems pretty short-sighted to me. Or arrogant. Unless they were somehow breeding for it. The gene, I mean. Were they?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You'd think they would...but still it's a fifty-fifty chance." She frowned, thinking. "Unless there was some reason they wouldn't. Or couldn't." She stared at nothing, thinking. Briefly touched her abdomen. Then grabbed the bag of chips.

"I tend to agree, John," Rodney said. "As a failsafe it is infallible. Up to a point. Maybe they weren't worried about the loss of the gene, or the dilution of it through subsequent generations. Since they ascended and all. It's not like they wanted to share them with the subsequent populations on other planets."

"Too overconfident, most likely," John noted. Eyed Moira. "Hey, didn't you have some theory about the Wraith's genesis that you said Elizabeth wouldn't like? Because it involved the Ancients, right?"

She met his assessing gaze, startled, distracted from a disturbing line of thought. "Yes. How did you...yes. Sort of. I mean...yes. Maybe." She turned back to Rodney. "I'm still working on that trajectory, and I think I accessed more information. Rodney, I need you to help me with the trajectory. The planets that have no data...the...John! John, those planets? For your theory?"

The two men were staring at her. John staring at her startled expression. Rodney staring at the bag of chips. "Yes, Moira. Rodney, whatever she needs, give it to her."

"I need those chips. And what about the trajectory? Oh, the backwards thing, right? I can update the systems but the data is immense not to mention time-consuming–"

"What there is of it, oh!" She handed the bag of chips to Rodney who smiled. "And I need to finish the work on the proteins and the enzymes...the Wraith bio–"

"No. I told you, Moira, that's too many at once. Focus on one or two, okay? You can have as many staff as you need. You don't have to do it all by yourself."

She frowned. "John, I am perfectly capable of running five simultaneous projects on my own plus carrying your child so back off! Rodney, can you run a simulation of the entire Stargate network in this galaxy?"

Rodney glanced at John, who was smirking at his wife. He met Moira's gaze. "Of course. Given we have enough data. If not I can postulate a reasonable facsimile. Why?"

"For the trajectory, and for John's secret theory. Thanks. I still need to narrow down the protein analysis, though...and the classifications of the–"

"Moira, you have a strict timetable now," John tried another approach. "You told me so yourself. You work afterwards. Go." He checked his watch. "I'll come get you for lunch in say...an hour?"

"Lunch," she clarified.

He smiled, all innocent. "Lunch. Yes. That's what I said. Lunch."

She eyed him, saw the amusement. The mischief. "Lunch. Okay. As long as you come...get me for lunch." She smirked, walked out of the lab.

John laughed. "Count on it, Moira." He watched her leave, eyes on her rear. Then turned to Rodney. Suddenly serious. "No more tests. All right?"

"Why? She's fine. We've just begun, John! We've only scratched the surface of her potential and we–"

"I said no. I'm the only one who scratches her surface, got it? She needs to rest, relax, not engage in test after test."

"But she has the–"

"Don't care. Let her be, all right? At least for another month."

"Why? Is there some problem with the pregnancy?"

"No...and I intend to keep it that way," John stated firmly.


End file.
